


Cravings

by Peach_Pit



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Drama, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, Fantasy, First Dates, Fluff, Halloween, Humor, Innuendo, Love, Lust, M/M, Promnis - Freeform, Promnis Big Bang 2019, Sex Toys, Vampires, background lunoct - Freeform, flangst, hemo erotic, light gore, minor animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-01-08 06:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peach_Pit/pseuds/Peach_Pit
Summary: It turns out that vampires aren’t all monsters. Some can be sweet, caring, attentive, kind. The worlds of vampires and humans converge after a chance meeting, Prompto becoming a shining beacon in Ignis’s hour of darkness. Having left a mark (or two) on each other, they can’t seem to keep away from one another for long afterward.It also turns out that Ignis doesn’t mind being a bit of a meal every so often, either… Which is good, because once Prompto gets a taste, all he craves is more.Written for the 2019 Promnis Big Bang  🦇 ❤️ 🤓





	1. Sanguine

**Author's Note:**

>   
  

> 
> [Art by Nagifry](https://twitter.com/Nagifry)  

> 
> Written for the 2019 Promnis Big Bang and instigated by some good friends. 🦇 ❤️ 🤓
> 
> Special thanks to Callie and Hap Sky (my editors), Nagifry (the artist), and the rest of the Promnis fam that directly helped instigate and contribute to this whole idea: Marley, Bre, Su, Musey, Gizz, Ace, and Rose! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Ignis would do anything for the sake of the kingdom. 

In fact, for his brother and future king, he would even travel alone to the outskirts of Leide, where grew the best Leidan vegetables for the most nutritious stew. (After all, stew was the only form in which the Prince would take any vegetables.) The Shield would not accompany Ignis to his destination, superstitious as he was; the Amicitias were quite comfortable hanging back at the seat of the Kingdom of Light, far from where any rumored shadow creatures lie in wait. Little would it deter Ignis, for he had a one-track mind when it came to his methods.

There lay many mysteries brewing in the woods of a darkening world, a few of which were laid bare to him on one such vegetable-harvesting evening.

“Hmm,” he mused, stooping down to inspect a ring of mushrooms. “Still not the ones I’m looking for.” Flipping open a tiny, black book, he glossed over pages of neatly-made cooking notes to land on one with a detailed sketch of a similar, yet distinctly-colored, fungus. Neither green nor purple were appetizing, but one was considerably more deadly. “Most certainly the poisonous variety. They must be abundant here. Odd environ…”

He took notice that the hours had passed quickly in his fervent search, and the sun had lowered itself dangerously close to the horizon. One could almost feel the chill of daemons forming at dusk, perhaps more so now that All Hallows’ Eve was approaching.

“Better get moving.” For a moment, he considered seeking the nearest motel for board rather than risking a night drive—that way, he could extend his search the next day as well—but the lights on his car should have been bright enough to make it back.

So he thought.

As the last peek of sun stole away over distant hills, Ignis began to backtrack, finding the roads of this almost-foreign region oddly similar-looking at night. The chill of the evening brushed past his collar, and he decided to raise the hood of the convertible. That was when he heard something, something just beyond the car’s protective walls—

Then came a rude awakening as the earth thrashed as if struck by a meteor.

_CLANG_.

“Wh—”

He lost control of the car as a tire burst, and it veered off-road and into an inconveniently-placed rock. Finding himself suddenly trapped between his seat and an airbag, he struggled to release himself. As he squirmed to reach for the door, the familiar squall of otherworldly creatures cleared up all mysteries of what could have caused this.

“Blast!” 

Almost as if summoned, a flaming, red sword crashed down beside the car’s passenger side. Ignis could feel a heat intense enough to melt the vehicle radiating from it. He attempted to move. The seatbelt held him locked in place. His fingers quickly found their way to the latch as a searing heat opened his pores and quickened his breath. Using the strength of his legs, grabbing for the door latch, he propelled himself into and out of the door, tumbling into the dirt in time to look up at the immense Red Giant reclaiming its sword.

The beast stood as a legendary apparition with its weapon held high, lighting the darkness with hellfire pouring from the seams of its armor. That which had, until now, only plagued Lucian fairy tales reared itself before Ignis, and he found himself frozen, though not from fear. No, Ignis would fear nothing in the wake of his duty, even in this frightfully one-sided situation. Instead, he had to choke down a moment of wonder, of _awe_, to act quickly enough to avoid being chopped in half.

He rolled to his side, dodging an attack that destroyed the other of Ignis’s front tires, scrambling to locate his glasses before giving up on the effort in order to take cover behind the rock. Gathering his breath, his focus, he brought his hands up to his chest and concentrated until his trusted daggers appeared nestled comfortably in his grip.

_This is it_, he thought. _This is what you’ve been training for_. He knew that one day his king would need to traverse the land and face monsters such as these. If he couldn’t defend himself against them, how could he ever hope to guard the crown?

If only it had been but one Red Giant. When Ignis turned back from behind the rock, he found his nemesis joined by four more daemons—lithe ones, tricky ones, sticky ones, and a rarely-seen type… A Lycanthrope. Night had barely even begun to fall, yet here they all were, just as it was said in Insomnian fairy stories, with glowing eyes and fire feasting upon a man nigh helpless.

_Noctis… I was foolish. Forgive me._

Ignis Scientia was nothing if not determined.

His blade found the neck of a Tonberry and the ankle of a Red Giant. The Lycanthrope could only get a few bites in before Ignis put a dagger in its heart and pushed it into the flaming Giant, but even this wasn’t enough to finish it—not like the Flan, which simply melted when met with Ignis’s own flaming blades. Ignis had only created a flaming werewolf.

_Ah. Going as well as I’d hoped, I see._

“Dude! You can’t fight those things by yourself!”

Ignis could hardly make out the pale blur in the darkness, nor had he a moment more to think before gunshots rang out from its direction. Several bullets put down the Lycanthrope and the Tonberry with no delay, but the Red Giant appeared barely fazed as shots ricocheted off its armored body.

Ignis dispatched a Goblin with a swift throw of his dagger, then turned around. “Who—”

Suddenly, the owner of that voice was in his face, a mess of blue eyes under furled yellow brows, and they were grabbing Ignis by the arm.

“Here’s how you survive out here. One: don’t ask questions. Two: run!”

And they were running. And Ignis was no longer asking questions, even as he felt the familiar heat of a white-hot blade approaching them. Both of them were most certainly fast enough to outrun it, but the sword extended the Giant’s reach considerably.

He could perceive little more than a booming crash as his whole world went white.

❦

Ignis awoke to darkness, enough so to question whether he had found himself in purgatory.

The bed below him was soft, as were the sheets. This _couldn’t _be purgatory.

With a groan, he sat up, neck creaking from side to side as he realized he felt as though he hadn’t moved in days. This strange place, dark as it was, didn’t set him full of unease. In fact, he was _too _relaxed. Perhaps it was a rare slumber of restfulness, the kind that pushed the morning’s first coffee back an hour or two. Perhaps it was just that this was the most comfortable bed he’d ever been in.

As his waking eyes adjusted to the dark room, he found an unnatural dimness, caused by the sliver of blue light peeking from under a distant door. Without his glasses, he could barely make out a bedside table, upon which rested a glass of something opaque with a thin sheet of paper as its coaster, soaking up its condensation. Beside it, what appeared to be some snacks.

He leaned to the side, breathed in. “Orange juice. Cookies…chocolate chip, fresh? And…a Kupo Bar.”

His curiosity overcame his hunger. He couldn’t have been alone here.

Sliding out of bed, Ignis found his footing on cold, wooden floors and realized he was without socks. The shirt he wore also could not have been his own, for it was tight around the shoulders and chest, especially where his wounds appeared to have been cleaned and wrapped. Despite the extensive bandaging, he felt as though his body lacked an ache that should be present, but he would not question how he felt, for now—only how he came to be here.

Recalling little after the flash of a Red Giant’s assault, he pressed forward to find out where he had ended up.

Ignis opened the door to a dim and fluorescent-lit corridor, unserviced lights flickering above his head. Other than the strange lighting, it seemed like a relatively normal, if somewhat neglected and chilly, mid-six-hundreds-era Leidan house, walls painted a dull color that seemed to absorb the light. He still proceeded cautiously. Creaking floorboards. Drab, cracking, vaguely floral wallpaper. No pictures on the walls. A few doors painted a fading, unremarkable color.

_Something out of a classic horror story._

Ignis abruptly dropped to his knees in the middle of the hallway, feeling a burning sensation shooting through his body. “Agh—” It felt as if a thousand pounds of water pressure were atop him, all the while his veins aflame, threatening to burn his inner fuel and leave him little more than a wheezing, heaping mass.

Holding himself in place, using all of his will to prevent himself from keeling over, he heard footsteps thumping in his direction. _And there it is_, he thought, propping his shoulder against the wall in the beginnings of defeat. _There’s the monster._

Yet no monster appeared at the far end of the hall. Instead, a familiar, blond blur hastened up to him, blue eyes full of concern. It may have been just in Ignis’s nutrition-deprived mind, but he swore the room brightened with the man, the atmosphere lifting from that of a pale and sickly aquarium hue to clear skies, just as the blond’s eyes.

As before, the man came to him, stooped down, grabbed him by the arm. “Hey! A-are you all right?”

“Mmf.” Ignis found himself out of his depth, simultaneously thankful for aid but so, so bitter that he’d put himself in this position.

“Didja eat?”

Ignis shook his head, swallowing his dizzy unease.

“Dude!” The blond stood again, stepping quickly into the room from which Ignis had come, and returned with the plate of cookies and the glass of orange juice. “You lost a _lot_ of blood, man. You need to eat. I’m starting you off light, but I’ll have to rummage up some real grub for you to recover your full strength.”

Ignis wanted to respond, _Thank you, but this will suffice_. Instead, accepting the food, he stuffed a cookie into his mouth, this time without hesitation. Wobbly as he seemed, the blond kept his hand on one of his shoulders to keep him from tipping forward. His hands felt noticeably clammy…or, Ignis thought, perhaps he was too warm by comparison.

The blond helped tip the glass up and return it downward as Ignis took a big gulp. He was already feeling better, and he could see the concern in the stranger’s eyes ease into comfort knowing that Ignis would soon be well.

Finishing his drink, Ignis exhaled sharply. “Who are you?”

“Oh! Sorry!” A nervous laugh came forth effortlessly, matched with an embarrassed smile. “I’m Prompto. And you’re…Ignis, right?”

Ignis jumped in his skin. “How do you know that?”

“Sorry! I had to kinda go through your stuff to see if I could find any contacts. There was _nada_ outside of your driver’s license, so I had to bring ya here.”

For once, Ignis cursed his over-cautiousness. The details of his job role outside of the Crown City were typically to be kept close to his chest. “And where’s ‘here’?”

“This is my house. Sorry, I haven’t cleaned up in, like, ages.” A grin with a flash of fang.

“That’s all well and good, but if memory serves me correctly, there are clinics nearby and a hospital not terribly far from here.”

“Yeah… Long story short, I couldn’t exactly get you to the hospital. But don’t worry! You’re in pretty good shape, considering what happened. Just gotta eat something, eh?” He nodded reassuringly. “Hey… Why don’t we get off of this floor and get someplace more proper?”

Feeling too weak to object, Ignis nodded and accepted Prompto’s hand as they stood up together. They walked step-by-step, Prompto gingerly holding Ignis’s hand as he led him deeper into his home. As he tailed behind, Ignis noted that Prompto was dressed eclectically, disparate pieces of clothing pulled together with worn leather, though none of his clothing seemed new or in-fashion. Thankfully, Ignis had been spared anything unusual when it came to this too-small shirt he now wore; after what he’d been through, a plain, white tee would do just fine.

Prompto sat Ignis in the midst of a sizeable yet relatively empty kitchen, also lit by strangely dim fluorescents. It seemed to be kept well, in spite of its sad, barren state. A place at the table seemed to be set for one already; Prompto sat him in front of plastic silverware and a sturdy paper plate, adding the plate of cookies to their setting. “I’d have more ready for ya, but the microwave’s busted right now, and the oven…well, let’s just say the last time I turned it on, things didn’t go so well.”

The blonde sat in the seat next to his guest, watching him intently as he hoped to see him recover. Ignis adjusted his position on the bar stool, becoming lost in thought midway between bringing the next cookie to his lips. The lights were fluorescent and the curtains were thick. The clock on the wall beside a silent refrigerator indicated that it was seven o’clock, and the vestiges of low light crawled along the curtains’ outer edges. The house was much quieter than any he’d ever visited. There were no frames, no mirrors, and even the reflective metal of the oven door seemed washed over with a pastiche of grime that hid its shine. The only warmth seemed to emanate strangely from the next room over, presumably a living room or den.

Prompto flashed Ignis an uneasy smile, holding his palms up. “Now, I gotta confess something to ya.”

Ignis saw a pointy canine as Prompto’s nervous laugh escaped once more.

“I did…kinda drink some of your blood back there while you were passed out.” He waved his hands reassuringly. “I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad! I was just _so hungry_, and there was just _so much_ spilling out, dude. It’s honestly _amazing _that you’re still alive.” His eyes flitted back and forth as Ignis offered no response. “Anyway, uh, it…would have all gone to waste.”

_That’s it. Prompto’s a vampire._

Unable to read Ignis’s expression, Prompto continued. “This area’s kinda dangerous, y’know. Lotsa daemons out and about at night, and other assholes besides them. I know I’ve had my fair share of run-ins that I’d rather have avoided… And Lycans, don’t even get me _started_, dude. But, uh, what’re you doing out in these parts, anyway? You’re definitely not from around here, not with a car like that. Didja get lost? Do you need any help finding your way back?”

Blank. Ignis was still processing.

Prompto felt his mind go into a panic. This unknown man that he’d brought into his home could be capable of anything; after all, he _did_ try to fight a Red Giant alone. He wasn’t quite prepared to be taken down by the handsome stranger, but that may very well have been his fate.

However—

“You’re a vampire.”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto shuffled under Ignis’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Where did you get this food?”

“I’ve got a guy about a mile down the road. Wiz’s Grocer. He dims the lights for me and doesn’t ask questions. Y’know, if I need supplies ’n…stuff.”

“You drank some of my blood.”

Prompto nodded.

“How much, exactly?”

“’Bout a quart. Spilled more than that… You were _down and out_, dude.”

Ignis quirked an eyebrow. “You _measured_?”

Prompto grinned weakly. “I can just _tell _at this point.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Uh, well…” Prompto began counting on his fingers. “It’s been, what, two days? You completely missed out on Halloween, dude. Not that much happens ’round these parts…other than the obvious, y’know, terrors of the night.” Prompto gave a small sigh of relief that accompanied a smile. “I didn’t really expect you to wake up for another day or so, but I guess you’re a fast healer.”

Ignis wore a calm yet serious look. “If I stay here much longer, my friends will come looking for me, and they _will _find me.” He stood, simultaneously pushing his chair back. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He took another step and nearly stumbled to the ground. Prompto rushed out of his seat to help him gain his balance.

“You sure about that? It’s no bother, really—_I got time_. Plus…”

In the silence, they heard the somewhat distant, subnatural cry of a daemon.

“…I’m pretty sure ya wanna avoid a repeat of a few days ago.”

“Ah. Indeed.”

The energy it took to complete his meager meal wore Ignis out, and Prompto could tell; his attempts to rise on his own hardly made an inch of movement, and he was already tipping over. The young vampire, in all his pale-faced concern, guided a sluggish Ignis back to the room from which he’d risen and put him back to bed, where he would spend the night passed out in relative comfort in the soothing darkness of a vampire’s den.

What a strange part of Leide Ignis had stumbled into.


	2. Queries

On his way out, Ignis had discovered that Prompto was something of a tinkerer, having used his sizeable cache of tools to fix up Ignis’s bashed-up car in a gaunt handful of days. It most certainly wasn’t _pretty—_a tale to be told once he arrived back in the city—but it was functional, perhaps even enough to make it all the way back north.

“Y’want me to write you a nice alibi for your friends? I have a doctor’s handwriting.” The vampire chuckled as he watched Ignis’s awe at his car’s renewed state ease into analysis.

“Concern yourself not, Prompto. I’ve got the debriefing under control.” He paused, surveying the dents at the car’s front right. “Are you certain that this will work?”

“Well, it got us here to begin with, and I practically took the front apart and put it back together, so it should be good to go. But don’t worry—if it breaks down, I’ll getcha a full refund.” He shot Ignis a wink.

Opening the driver side door, Ignis smirked. “Quite.” He gave the pale-haired vampire standing in the door frame of his house another glance over, absorbing the tableau: an aged house framing a tender and eternal beauty with elegant fingers resting on opposite jambs, slender body fit into an oversized sweater and slacks and still managing to look more graceful than baggy. “Thank you, Prompto.”

❦

Prompto sat curled in his usual spot on the couch, sunken in and comfortable, staring down at a tiny screen on his years-outdated phone. Smiling absently at yet another photo of a cat posed with its toe beans pointed _way _out, it seemed that the Ignis Incident of a week ago had faded completely from memory.

Then came a knock on the door, promptly at nine.

Prompto cracked it open slightly, a single blue eye peeking, then swung the door open wider to see the tall man standing there, dark clothing practically blending in with the night. He wore the same kind of shirt Prompto had found him in: dark purple leopard print that was practically the man’s signature look, though, of course, it was now fresh-pressed and clean. Did he have a whole stash of these in his closet, custom cut and finely tailored for a mammoth such as he? Did he always wear glasses? And how long did it take to get his hair to stand up that way?

“Ignis!”

“Evening. I have a few questions for you. I promise no one’s followed me here.”

“I feel a little like I might be on camera. Which won’t work, by the way.”

“I’m well aware.”

“C’mon, man, I finally have a good gig here. Remote abandoned house, nice, spacious, in a forested valley, _super_ creepy so no one ever randomly bugs me—”

“My word is my bond.” Ignis could read the unease in Prompto’s eyes, a low level of anxiety he had picked up on previously. “Please, Prompto. I’ve no interest in betraying you. After all, I owe you my life.”

Ignis had been inching ever closer toward Prompto, already practically through the door. Prompto stepped to the side.

“Okay. Just don’t let the daemons in, too.”

“None of that this time.”

Sitting at the same spot in the kitchen they had just seven days prior, Ignis and Prompto sized each other up over momentary silence.

Prompto gave a lazy shrug. “I’d offer ya a glass of wine or somethin’, but.”

“I appreciate the thought, especially since I’m an unannounced guest. I also appreciate you taking the time out of your…_busy_ schedule.”

Prompto leaned his whole arm onto the countertop. “Sure.”

“So.” Ignis, sitting up straight, tugged at the corners of his shirt, untucking it from his pants as he rolled the fabric up into his grip and pulled upward. Prompto sat up again as the man’s skin was revealed to him. The vestiges of widespread scarring nearly blended in with sun-kissed skin. “You described my wounds as grievous. They have been all but totally healed since the day after I departed. All but the scrapes on my face are hardly visible, and even _those _could be worse.”

“Oh yeah. That’s, uh, kind of a side-effect of the whole, ’I drank your blood’ thing…”

Ignis quirked an eyebrow. “Elaborate.”

“Well—and this is gonna seem a little bullshit, but it’s true—our saliva has healing properties. That’s why ya don’t bleed out…if we don’t letcha, that is.”

Ignis appeared to process this idea for a moment. “Fascinating.” He whipped a tiny black book and a pen out of his shirt pocket and began to write quickly and methodically.

Prompto leaned forward in an attempt to spy at whatever Ignis was writing. “Hey, you’re not putting me into some kinda file, are you? I feel a little like I’m being documented here.” 

“I assure you, this is for my own curiosity. I’ve no interest in stirring the pot when it comes to vampires.”

“You some kinda writer?”

“Aha.” A sarcastic laugh gave way to a gentler face as Ignis put his book away. “I must admit to this: I am the chamberlain of His Highness Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV, heir to the throne of Lucis.”

A pause. “I thought right. You’re definitely not from around here.”

“Indeed. I was only out here for his sake, gathering some rare supplies for supper, but I misjudged what I would be in for, so far south.”

“Sure did.”

“However, I am glad that this all transpired. It is in our best interests for me to know more about our world. There may well come a time where the Prince must leave the seat of Lucis and explore beyond the great Old Wall.”

“Suppose you’re right about all that.” Prompto fiddled with a bit of the pale hair dangling in his face. “You Insomnians don’t know a thing ‘bout what goes on out here.”

Ignis smiled. Prompto’s face showed an otherworldly youth, as did his voice, and occasionally, even his manner of speech, but he could tell the vampire had been around at least a bit longer than it seemed.

“Prompto, about how often do you need blood?”

“Quart a day, give or take. I guess I can get by on less… I was kinda running on empty the day I ran into you.”

“What are your usual sources? Would you call yourself more of a hunter or a scavenger?”

Prompto scoffed. “I’m the only thing getting hunted out here. Hunters are dicks.” Leaning on the counter over his folded arms, he looked away from Ignis, speaking again after a pause. “There’s a farm not too far from here. Chill-ass cattle, man. They don’t mind a bite every few days, and there’s a _lot_ of them. Fresh is always best, of course, but blood that’s been sitting around for a while ain’t terrible. That’s what I found out when I hit up the local butcher. I got caught in the act but managed to go legit.”

“Meaning?”

“He hired me, the butcher. I work some nights and get all the blood I want, fresh and guilt-free.”

Ignis leaned on an elbow. “That seems ideal for you.”

“You bet.”

“Are there other vampires, too?”

“What, y’wanna start documenting them, too?”

“I just want to know if you’re merely one of the commonalities of this region, or if I’ve really made a rare acquaintance. For all I know, vampires may be as common as daemons at this point.”

“Nah. I mean, there’s a few of us.” Glancing upward, Prompto idly counted on his fingers, stopping just short of seven. “We don’t really _get along_, though.”

“Not much in common?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Would you say they stay clear of the city?”

“Actually, no. Some of them, they used to live there, on the outskirts. Dunno how they managed.”

Ignis’s eyes filled with genuine surprise. “But the city is surely the most blessed place in this land—with the Gift of Eos, vampires shouldn’t be able to enter the city at all.”

“Like I said, dunno how they managed. But I’m starting to think you’ve got some unfounded notions about us… There may be more in Insomnia than you think. Not every vampire loses the Light of Eos, after all.”

“Are you implying that some vampires have access to magic?”

“What—no!” Prompto raised his hands in a half-shrug. “I’m just saying we’re not that different!”

“What about flight? Super speed?”

“Huh?”

Ignis started writing more rapidly. “That would explain why I could hardly see you during the attack—”

“What would explain it is the fact that you were _under fucking attack!_ Geeze, what movies have you been watching? Have you even read one history book, Mr. Chamberlain?”

“Some of us don’t have quite as much free time as you do.”

“Enough free time to drive all the way to Leide, alone, for…whatever reason it was you had!”

“Why don’t you educate me, then?”

“You know what? Maybe I will!”

Popping out of his chair, Prompto took Ignis by the arm and began dragging him out of the kitchen.

“Where—”

“We’re gonna go full _MST _here,” Prompto said, leading Ignis into the living room, in the center of which a small, bluish light emanated from the front of a dark box. “I happen to have quite the nice collection of vampire misinformation.” He snatched a small, rectangular box off a wall shelf on his way toward the central couch. “Some of it barely counts as entertainment, but hey—that’s why you’ve got me.”

“You have a television?” With his eyes, Ignis traced the power cords leading from the TV into the wall with confusion. “The refrigerator wasn’t running—”

“—So I didn’t have to catch it! Hey, so, I’ve done some odd jobs in my time, and the oddest resulted in me grabbing something called a ’meteor shard’.”

“You mean…from the Disc of Cauthess?”

“I guess?” Prompto shrugged, plopping down on the couch and pulling Ignis down with him.

“Oof! How—”

“I dunno, man. I just kinda shoved it into the breaker and now everything electric from here to the hallway works. Doesn’t quite hurt like the sun and damn near never runs out. There’s still a few shorts here and there, but it works how I need it to. I, uh, broke the fridge, though. The _hummmm _was _killing _me.”

“Hmm… So the energy of the Meteor also doesn’t affect vampires…” Ignis whipped out his book again.

“Hey, don’t write that down! Leave us _some _secrets, huh? I kinda like bein’ _mysterious._ Now, are you in, or do you gotta be home before your bedtime?”

“Hmph.” Snapping the book closed, Ignis tucked it back into his shirt pocket. “And what exactly will we be watching?”

Leaning forward, Prompto took a VHS tape out from the rectangular box and placed it gingerly into the VHS player hooked to the TV. “_Blades_. It seems this one has disseminated a _lot_ of bad vampire intel. Prepare to be educated in real time!”

“I’m honored to have the opportunity.”

❦

“See? _See?_” Prompto’s voice grew shrill as he gestured toward the TV.

“See what?”

“You don’t just turn after one bite. That’d be insane! It’s a whole…_thing!_” There was more gesturing to illustrate his point interpretively.

“I see.”

“We’re not zombies, dude!”

“I believe you!”

“Sorry, I just get so worked up.” Despite his exasperated voice, Prompto was grinning ear-to-ear. “People are all, ’historical realism’ this and ’accuracy in fiction’ that, but they just keep relying on the same stupid tropes!”

“It’s really about the money for most companies.”

“Damn shame.”

Ignis heard a stomach growl that, surprisingly, wasn’t his own.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“What about your job at the butcher?”

“Haven’t had a call back in a few days. It’s fine, though, it’s fine.”

Another growl. It didn’t sound “fine” to Ignis.

Ignis had noticed that Prompto looked just a bit paler than before, heavy-lidded eyes sunken into a delicate face a slight bit, toned stomach flat beneath a shirt that would have been skin-tight. Ignis had also noticed that he had no bite marks anywhere on his body from the previous ordeal; the vampire was surprisingly trustworthy, having had many the chance to feast upon his unexpected guest.

Ignis began undoing the top button of his shirt, loosening his collar. “I’ve got plenty this time. I did say I owe you my life, after all.”

“H-huh? No, I couldn’t. You’re a guest here.”

“You haven’t been eating enough, have you?”

“Eh… I’ll admit, the local livestock don’t exactly taste great lately. I’d rather not hurt ’em any more than I need to, either. Due to recent trends, it’s actually not difficult at all to convince a rando to suck a little of their blood, like, _one _time, but first you’d _need _a rando to convince at all… Vamps are cool now, apparently, but that counts for _jack _out here in the _sticks_.”

“In that case, perhaps I’m you’re ’rando’ for today.”

“You sure about this? I don’t really have any snacks or anything on hand this time.”

“Couldn’t hurt. Don’t worry, I’ve my own supplies in my car.”

Prompto sat momentarily in awe at Ignis’s preparedness and unflappable composure. Few had ever been so _insistent_ with him; it almost felt like a prank.

Prank or not, a desperate hunger drew Prompto ever closer to the feast that rushed just below Ignis’s skin. This close to him, he could practically smell it.

“You think I’m gonna go for the neck, huh?”

“Yes?”

“What’d I say about cliches? Maybe if I wanted you to, like, _die instantly_. No, that’s where they go to drain you. You wouldn’t wake up tomorrow, trust me.” Prompto traced a couple fingers from Ignis’s jugular vein down to his shoulder. “The trapezius is a much safer bet. Sure, it takes longer, but it’s easier to control. Hurts less, too.”

Ignis unbuttoned more of his shirt to pull it down, revealing the flesh of his left shoulder.

“The wrist is much like the neck: it’s kind of a no-no zone. The chest is risky, too, but nowhere near as much. And the butt… Well, that’s just for fun.”

“I never considered the anatomy of a vampire’s meal.”

“Well, aren’t you learning a lot today?” Pressing his nose gently against Ignis’s shoulder, Prompto breathed in gently. “Ready?”

Ignis hummed his acknowledgement with a hard swallow.

The vampire then traced his lips over to the trapezius muscles just at the base of Ignis’s neck, gently inserting his fangs to drink. Ignis flinched but for a split moment before settling into the feeling. Prompto was right: it did not hurt as badly as one would think.

He drank for minutes in silence. Ignis sat, hardly fazed, just listening.

When Prompto finally withdrew his fangs, he licked the fresh wounds clean. Just like that, the bite began to seal right away. Ignis could hear Prompto moaning his contentment lowly as he leaned against his back, idly wondering if vampires also got _the itis_.

“Mmm… You taste so good, Ignis…”

Ignis craned his head around to side-eye Prompto, who immediately blushed with a face full of his guest’s blood.

“Did I…just say that out loud?”


	3. Thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. What this whole fic is about.

As before, Ignis awoke the next day in the vampire’s abode.

His drive home was fraught with more questions than Prompto could possibly answer in a single visit, yet there was no more time for chit-chat. He had to return to where he belonged: at the right hand of the Crown Prince. Of course, the Prince and his Shield had questions of their own upon his return.

“Is this disappearin’ act of yours gonna become a regular thing?” smirked Gladiolus Amicitia, giving Ignis’s unwittingly tender shoulder a playful punch. Ignis winced hard, attempting to hide his face from him as he grabbed it and flinched away. “Hey, just wanted to know so I can up my insurance on ya.”

Ignis rubbed his shoulder. “That’s hardly necessary. Also, you have insurance on me?”

“You really should clue us in on where you’re going,” said Noctis Lucis Caelum, trudging down the Great Hall still half-asleep, “especially if you’re going to be out all night.”

“I think I’ve got a _clue_,” said Gladio. “Look, he’s still wearin’ the same shirt from yesterday.”

Ignis scoffed. “I’ll have you know that I own several of these.”

“’Cause _of course _you do,” Noctis yawned.

“Yeah, I know. But this one’s your fav—with the pleats. Who’re ya seein’? Anyone we know?” Gladio grinned, throwing an arm around Ignis’s shoulders.

This morning meeting of the Small Council was already getting out of hand for Ignis.

Noctis took his seat at the head of the roundtable. “Gladio, if he actually tells us, I’ll eat my shoe. Raw. And I’ll put that in writing.”

“Ha!”

“Excuse me, but do we not have official business to discuss?” Ignis gathered up his papers and tapped the thin edge against the table, barely shuffling their already perfect alignment as he struggled to change the topic.

“I’ll have you know that it’s actually a pretty slow morning,” Gladio grinned.

Ignis only sighed.

Gladio leaned on his arm cooly with a smirk that indicated that he still hadn’t given up. “If ya ain’t gonna tell me, I’ll just get it from the Marshal later.”

“Even if there were something to _get,_ Cor would hardly betray me, I should hope.”

“How do you think I found out about your _collection?_”

Noctis perked up. “Wha? _Collection?_”

Ignis cleared his throat. “Ahem—let’s get down to business, shall we?”

❦

They would meet again later for the Large Council, a gathering that proved Gladio right: it was, in fact, a slow enough day to leave Ignis’s mind to wander as the other council members droned through the numbers at the behest of their king.

Ignis couldn’t help but think about how he had awoken that morning, propped up against a slightly drowsy Prompto fiddling with his phone. How strangely warm it was; a meteor shard powered the nearby space heater. How serene the blond had seemed; he wore a gentle smile as he scrolled through his app.

Prompto had sat there the entire night for Ignis.

Checking his phone beneath the table, he had to make sure his mind hadn’t invented what had transpired just hours ago. There it was, under his contacts list: an entry for Prompto.

He’d witnessed a cold, lonely anxiety return to Prompto’s blue eyes just before they were to part ways, a look that would have gone unnoticed by most. Ignis himself had made the suggestion, thinking it good that he keep an eye on the solitary little vampire should anything go amiss. Then he saw it with his own eyes: a subtle warmth returned to Prompto’s eyes, along with his smile.

Prompto didn’t resist at all.

“Just in case I have any more questions,” Ignis had said.

Yes. Questions. More than Prompto could answer.

Tapping on Prompto’s name, he began to type out a lingering query when a message from the vampire popped up—a picture of a couple whole heads of garlic.

“_found these on the kitchen floor, did you drop them? or are you trying to kill me? LMAO_ 😂😂”

Ignis remembered his gathering session before stopping by Prompto’s house. “_Oh goodness, I do apologize. I should have warned you._”

“_its fine dood LOL. wait, no, oh no I touched them, I think I’m melting! heeeeellpkjdskgj (that’s the sound of me melting)_😜🧛♂️”

Ignis chortled. He found it fortunate that Prompto was good-humored.

“Mr. Scientia, if you could pry yourself away for a moment?”

Ignis abruptly turned off his phone screen and returned to attention, clearing his throat as his eyes lifted up to the council members. “Apologies.”

“I do rather think it would do us good to have the full attention of the future king’s trusted advisor.”

“You are quite correct. I again apologize.”

“Right. Then, as I was saying…”

❦

The rest of the meeting had Ignis feigning attention until they could adjourn. He had experienced things _far _too fascinating in this past week for him to sidle right back into his usual political routine. He had discovered _Prompto_.

While politics still kept Ignis on his toes and away from his new discovery, little held them back from texting each other at various hours of the evening.

_“Prompto, exactly what happens to the blood you consume?”_

_“uh, I guess I just kinda absorb it?”_

_“How do you keep your breath so fresh?”_

_“well, occasionally I’ll find some ginger root out here, or mint… kinda gross, but i can handle it. gum helps, too, ’cause you don’t have to eat it.”_

Of course, Prompto had plenty of his own voluntary contributions to Ignis’s growing Mental Encyclopedia of Vampire Knowledge.

“_hey ignis, Vampire Fact #2156: we have a secret second row of teeth. it’s true! they’re retractable”_

_“Sounds like a whole lot of malarkey, if I’m being honest.”_

_“hey, just cause you haven’t seen em doesn’t mean theyre not there!”_

Prompto leaned against the arm of his worn couch, toes idly plucking at a loose thread in the cushions, and sighed. “Vampire fact number two-thousand-and-fifty-seven: I’m awfully lonely.”

He was about to take a quick nap when his phone buzzed again.

_“You’ll have to show me your transformation someday.”_

Prompto snapped his eyes back to the phone screen. _“Huh?”_

A moment later, a photo popped up: a yellow, cartoon bat plush toy in what appeared to be the clearance aisle of a convenience store. _“I’ve found your ’bat-sona’.”_

_“ha!” _Prompto was actually laughing along with his typing, correcting his more egregious typos as he giggled. _“omg…so cute, if I could become a cute bat, life would be a lot easier!”_

_“How so?”_

_“i could fly everywhere! plus ppl wouldn’t be afraid of me.”_

_“I’m not afraid of you, Prompto.”_

Prompto’s eyes glanced across the line again.

And again.

And _again_.

The vampire felt his body desiring to blush, his heart struggling to beat, his veins desiring warmth, his chest tightening.

❦

Though his days had gotten a bit more interesting as a result of all these vampire texts, Ignis still had to occupy himself with current events and news. It was, after all, his job to disseminate relevant information to the future king of Lucis, as much as he would love to allow himself some tardiness on the matter.

Turning on the morning news, he began to prepare his usual breakfast of one boiled egg and french toast when something unappetizing was announced on-screen.

_“With that, the Insomnia Ravens will not be advancing on to playoffs. And now for some breaking news. In the south-central part of Duscae, we’ve received some disturbing reports that a large group of livestock has been attacked and mutilated overnight.”_

Removing his glasses, Ignis moved closer to the TV.

_“The culprit is not clear at this time. Due to the severity of this event, many locals say that it could only be the work of the supernatural. Warning: the following images _are_ graphic.”_

A chill went down Ignis’s spine. _Prompto. You couldn’t…_

…

Prompto’s phone went off, jostling him out of his daytime rest and nearly startling him out of bed. Pulling off his heavy blankets, he grabbed for his phone before it vibrated its way off the side of the bed as well and checked the number flashing in his pitch-black room.

Ignis.

Calls were rare for Prompto in general, but as of yet, Ignis had never called him outright.

“Ignis Scientia! My favorite Scientia! What’s up? It’s, like…noon?”

“Apologies for calling you so, er, late,” Ignis said, sounding more apologetic than he needed or intended to at the moment. “I just heard something disturbing on the news and wanted to run it by you.”

Prompto’s eyes went dim. He already knew what this would be about.

“On the news this morning, there was a story about some livesto—”

“They were all fucked up, weren’t they?” Prompto’s impatience came through clearly, as if anticipating what Ignis would say next.

“Er, yes. Prompto, did y—”

“Nice, Ignis, real nice.” Prompto sighed, pulling the phone away from his head temporarily, then pulling his covers back over his head.

“Prompto, I’m just—”

“You barely even know me, but you’ve already started making assumptions.”

“No, I—”

“Don’t wake me up for stuff like this, dude.”

On Ignis’s side, there was silence. The phone call beeped to an end.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Ignis sighed.

He liked Prompto. Perhaps against the better judgment of his years of training, he _trusted _the loner living in the middle of nowhere, maybe even a little too much. If only he could shut his heart, he felt, so that life could return to normal, and turn off the part of his mind that made even small things casually flit to thoughts of Prompto—typically good things, yet even things such as the horrible slaughter previously only known to daemons and Lycans…

What was he thinking?

…

Prompto was roused again from his spot on the couch promptly at ten in the evening when knocking came from his front door. Stumbling off, grabbing the tire iron that lay on the floor nearby and holding it like a club, he walked as soundlessly as he could toward the door and raised an eye to the peephole.

He could barely see Ignis through an ages-old pastiche of rust and dirt.

He didn’t answer for a moment. More knocks came.

“Who’s there?”

“Your favorite Scientia.”

The door opened cautiously, Prompto not even looking up to meet Ignis’s eye. He looked less _guilty_ and more _upset_, as Ignis should have expected; still, he stepped to the side to allow Ignis inside. He briefly looked left and right out the door after Ignis to confirm no one else was around, then pulled the door closed gently so as not to disturb the silence.

Both stood tensely in the living area, Prompto clasping one arm with his hand, Ignis folding his hands behind his back, silent for a few moments more.

“Prompto, I apologize for earlier. My mind jumped to you only because of what you’ve said previously—about the desperation, the hunger.”

“Do you really think I’m capable of that? Of doing _that_ to those poor animals?”

“No—”

“Then why’d you call me! To ask me about _that_, of all things!”

“I’m so—”

“Do you know how many people came around here earlier looking for some _evil monsters_ to _destroy_ before they chickened out? Guess!”

“I don—”

“Two! And thank Shiva they backed the fuck out! The people around here, man—pitchforks and torches and fuckin’ crosses!”

Grabbing Ignis by the arm, Prompto dragged him in front of the TV. The national news was transitioning to a new segment.

_“A follow-up to today’s growing story: the disease now affecting livestock across a wide area of the Leide region has been contained, with a massive recall happening on an estimated quarter-ton of meat produce made and distributed in the past two weeks. The progressive disease ultimately causes a breakdown of intestinal tissues, leading to a painful and explosive death. It was found that scavenger species, such as the saberclaw, would suffer the same fate after feeding opportunistically upon the fallen livestock. Efforts to…”_

“Prompto, I sincerely apologize.” Rubbing his neck, Ignis sighed. The air between them was cold yet thick in a home with no central heating, and the nights were long. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he added.

Prompto deflated. “Yeah…”

A lightbulb came on in Ignis’s mind. “Prompto, this means that you likely haven’t eaten in days. Am I correct?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh…” Prompto rubbed his arm more stiffly than intended. “I’ve actually been restraining myself from jumping you since you got here. Heh. Sorry… S’just, when I get to this point, I can practically hear your heartbeat from over here.”

Ignis had begun to consider the position Prompto was in. Here, in Middle of Nowhere, Lucis, Prompto the Vampire could eat like a king, if only he wanted to compromise his morals. What had made him this way? Why hadn’t this lone vampire taken freely the ripe fruit of humanity? There were no doubt secrets to be plied at. Would Prompto ply at him as well? Was he doing it now? Would an immortal go so far to manipulate one human soul?

Yet, looking at the pale being’s darkened eyes and ashen skin, and remembering the healthy smile he had once seen (nay, _felt_), Ignis’s compassion, in a rare act, overrode his apprehension.

“You poor thing. Look at you—your eyes, they’re sinking in.”

“Admittedly, I’d look better to begin with if I could see myself.”

“You’re starving.” Ignis loosened the top button of his shirt, exposing just a bit more of his flesh aside the bedazzled collar. “Come on, then.”

“Y-you sure?”

There went the second button. “You just said you were about to jump me.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s fine. I still owe you.”

“Really? Seems like we’re even at this point.”

“Really. Last time was for saving my life. This is for fixing my car. And, this time, I have plenty to spare as well.”

That time, Prompto bit closer to the neck.

Something about sitting on that worn, old couch soothed Ignis, even as an _actual _vampire drew out his _literal _lifeblood with pointed fangs. Perhaps it was the cooing of Prompto’s contentment as he drank deep of the most generous person he knew. Perhaps it was how cool Prompto was to the touch, hands and upper body resting against Ignis’s back as he continued to drink, warming only as he stayed with Ignis’s hot body for moments more. Ignis, warm-blooded as he was, perhaps true to his name, could appreciate someone like Prompto cooling him off.

Meanwhile, Ignis’s blood _stirred _something in Prompto. He could not yet put it into words, so the feeling remained as a haze of pleasure in his mind as this borrowed fuel brought his body back to waking.

❦

A quick trip to the convenience store later and the two found themselves watching movies again, sinking into the couch together. Ignis’s body was recovering, feeling ever heavier as sleep threatened him; Prompto began nodding off, his body satisfied with his meal.

One could hardly find another pair of people _that content _at that very moment on Eos.

❦

Ignis woke to find himself tucked against Prompto, a perfect fit. Prompto looked at peace, the features of his face no longer gaunt, looking almost sanguine. Checking his watch, he noted that it was early morning. If he left now, he could make it back to Insomnia before anyone missed him.

How perfectly settled in they were.

Carefully, painstakingly, Ignis replaced himself with a couple of Prompto’s large pillows and removed himself from the couch. Prompto’s nose twitched once. Twice. He shifted slightly and settled into his new pillows with a gentle sigh.

Ignis sighed as well, inaudibly. _How tired he must have been_, he thought, shaking his head slightly. He pulled one of the blankets on the couch over Prompto as well, knowing that soon the chill of undeath would return to him.

_Rest well, Prompto._


	4. Cravings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title drop!!!

Ignis Scientia, the Royal Scribe, Chamberlain, and Right Hand of the Prince had slept through nearly all of the next meeting of the Large Council. It would have been a bad look, _most_ unprofessional, but it rather prompted others to begin inquiring into his health. After all, Ignis was most always studious, attentive, sharp-witted, and mindful; something must have gone _horribly wrong_.

He was still daydreaming when Noctis approached him at lunch, the touch of his hand jolting him from a reverie.

“Hey, how was your date last night?”

Thankfully, no one else in the refectory was close enough for them to be heard.

Ignis coughed, regarding Noctis’s cheeky smile with incredulousness. “Excuse me?”

“Hey, I’m not one to pry. Everyone thinks you’re sick, but I can see what’s _really_ going on. You’re real predictable, Bro.”

“I am not.” Ignis tried to avoid pouting as he gathered his composure.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Noctis assured, removing his hand from Ignis’s shoulder. “You didn’t miss much, earlier. In fact, you sorted so much out in our previous meeting of the Large Council that we didn’t really have anything to talk about. You’ve solved a lot of tricky issues for us lately. You deserve some downtime.”

“Ah, would that I had time for an actual vacation,” said Ignis. “So many matters yet need tending to.”

“You _do _have time. Don’t you get what I’m saying, Iggy? Take a break—week or two. We’re all caught up here. Running ahead of schedule, actually. Dad doesn’t have any outstanding tasks for you. You’re free.”

Ignis blinked. _I’m free…_

“And besides, almost everyone else on the Council is taking a break already. You know full adjournment is coming up, right?”

Ignis had completely lost track of time, it seemed.

_Freedom…_

His mind flashed immediately to Prompto. Lately, it was always Prompto; when the meetings lulled, when his mind finally set to rest just seconds before sleep would take him, there shone in his memory the sweetest blonde vampire he could have ever met. And, unlike so many oddities and outliers he had seen and studied in his years, this was rapidly becoming something more than an intellectual curiosity. He could say that he felt almost giddy, as a schoolboy would, but little had he possessed such feelings in the past, if at all.

He simply didn’t know what to do with himself. But Ignis was not one to ignore his instincts. He was one to fuel the fire.

❦

Prompto’s fingers hovered above the “send” button.

_“wanna come over and watch ultraman w/me? lol”_

_You dummy_, he thought, glaring at his unsent message. _Why would he wanna just watch this old-ass show with me in the middle of nowhere? Why would you even think he’d wanna hang with you in the first place? He’s got an important job and an important life and you’re just, like, a science experiment or some shit—just a nob—_

His finger slipped, hitting the “send” button.

_No!! Cancel, cancel, _cancel—

It was too late; the text had already been received.

“You_ idiot_,” Prompto blurted out,“you_ godsdamned moron—_”

A knock at the door.

A blue eye peeked out a slit-wide opening.

It was _him_.

“I-Ignis!” Prompto threw the door open too forcefully, clearly in shock. “That was, uh, _super_ fast, dude.”

“Hmm?” Something buzzed in Ignis’s back pocket just then, and he removed his phone to see Prompto’s message. “Oh, Ultraman. I watched that with Noctis when we were children. Yes, I think that would be lovely.”

Prompto’s eyes glowed.

❦

Super monsters and mega-mechas did their dance of destruction onscreen, the two of them commenting as each episode played out.

“This scene frightened Noctis the first time we watched it, so we always skipped it when this episode came back around.”

“You probably have all this _forbidden knowledge_ about His Highness, don’tcha?”

“You have _no _idea.”

They may have been busy discussing the secrets of the prince’s youth, but the way Ignis’s eyes softened at Prompto’s own gaze did not go unappreciated. Indeed, Prompto had to question if what he was experiencing was real—if they had really, once again, inched closer to one another on the couch, if the gentle touch of their legs together was as welcome as it felt, if Ignis’s warmth was meant for _him_.

“His favorite toy was a Carbuncle plush,” Ignis continued. “He still has it.”

“Car…buncle? Is that some kinda animal found up north?”

“It’s a totem of the royal family, actually. Cute, fluffy.”

“Uh, doesn’t sound like the Insomnian aesthetic.”

Ignis smiled. “Tastes have shifted over the years. It’s not _entirely _disparate from our usual skulls and crossbones and what have we. Classically, the Carbuncle was associated with pestilence. Er, but don’t Moogle it, whatever you do. Not right now, anyhow.”

Prompto, who already had his phone up and ready to search, put it back down. “Ah. Speaking of change, y’know they’re remaking this on Netflix, right?” Prompto brought his attention back to the television as a super robot punched its way through a furry nightmare.

“Yes. Noctis had informed me of it.”

“Oh? What’d he think of the trailer?”

“Too violent.”

“Really?”

Ignis chuckled. “Am I painting a vivid enough picture of your future king for you?”

“I gotta say, I had this real regal, refined picture of him built up in my mind.”

“I’m not setting out to damage his reputation, you know.”

“It’s not damaged at all! He’s just…a guy, right? A regular ol’ Joe. Wakes up, puts on his pants one leg at a time, just like me. I actually like that. Maybe we’re not so different after all…” Prompto’s eyes drifted away as his voice grew more distant. “Ah, who’m I kidding? I’m not really a part of the kingdom. None of _us_ are.”

“Prompto…given time, things will change. His Highness has no particular qualm with vampires.”

“You think so? Can he really be the King of Light, like they say, and the king of vampires, too?”

“I—”

“Oh!”

Ignis tried to gather what just happened when Prompto suddenly grabbed his phone to check something.

“Yes! Yes! I almost forgot!” the vampire bleated with glee, grabbing the remote control and flipping the TV back to live channels. “A holiday classic is supposed to be on!”

“Holiday classic?” Ignis was still taken aback.

“Shh!”

Prompto shushed him as a title card appeared on the screen. In some rustic, hand-drawn font appeared the word “Carvings”; after a few seconds, a stream of blood coated the lettering, accompanied by a scream.

“This is that quality between-Halloween-and-Thanksgiving shit that I _crave_, dude! I watch ‘em every year!”

Ignis continued to be bewildered by Prompto’s tastes. “Doesn’t seem like you’d be much for holidays, though I suppose these regional holidays are a bit more charming.”

“Holidays in general, nah. But on TV—people make ’em look so grand, so _exciting_! Plus, there’s lots more blood on TV!”

Ignis shrugged. _I suppose that’s true._

“_Carvings_, the follow-up to _Stuffing_, oh, and let’s not forget _Shanksgiving _and _Thanksgutting_! I have ’em all on VHS. My VHS player, uh, broke, though.”

“Perhaps I can find a replacement the next time I go antiquing.”

Prompto forced a dry laugh. “Very funny, dude. They’re not that old.”

“The forties were over a decade ago, Prompto.”

Prompto slapped his hands to his cheeks in a mock scream. “No! Don’t remind me!”

…

By hour two of _Carvings_, Prompto was leaning his head into Ignis’s shoulder. “You know, it’s not that hard to get along with vampires.”

Ignis smiled. “So I’ve discovered.”

Prompto gestured toward the TV, also smiling. “All she had to do was send him a bunch of raw turkeys. Now her whole family is eaten.”

“So you are on the vampire’s side here? The one who’s eaten an entire family?”

“No, dude! I’m on the side of logic. _Duh_.” Prompto scoffed, shaking his head at the continued foolishness of the movie’s protagonist. “Fear kept her from seeing the better solution!”

“Fear does tend to work like that a lot of times.”

“When I lived in the city, people weren’t afraid of me.”

Ignis sat forward. “Aha!”

Prompto sat upright. “Huh?”

“So you _are _from the city? That’s how you know vampires were there?”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto’s expression deflated just the tiniest bit—not subtly enough to escape Ignis’s notice. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen as he spoke. “Long, long ago. No one was afraid, and some people were actually friendly, but everyone wanted to, uh, _use_ me. The city can be…a _lot_, sometimes.”

“Prompto…”

“You never had any trouble meeting someone there, that’s for sure…” Prompto noticed Ignis’s gaze set firmly on him and felt an innate urge to blush. “N-not that I know anything about that! Uh! Really, I don’t know…_anything, basically…_”

Trailing off, the vampire spent tense moments avoiding eye contact, feigning interest in the third commercial break in twenty minutes as he felt Ignis’s warmth and heat seeping more into his side. Then he felt something more: Ignis’s arm looped under his own and wrapped into his hand, the gloved fingers interlacing tenderly with porcelain-pale, lifeless digits.

How warm Ignis’s hands were, especially in aged and well-worn leather that lent their own soft texture to his skin.

As if he could feel his heart suddenly move, Prompto gently lifted that newfound hand, stroking it gently, curiously with a thumb, before bringing it up to his mouth. Playfully, he kissed it, then nibbled at the leather lightly, just enough to leave a pair of subtle knicks. When he lowered it, looking up with eyes of wickedly playful intent, he saw nothing but raw and awestruck emotion on the other’s face—something that almost changed the look of him entirely.

As Prompto turned, Ignis leaned in to meet Prompto’s kiss, cold lips and sharp teeth pressing in gently, hot breath taking in a mouth that tasted vaguely of mint. Their lips met again, and again, as if to reignite the feeling continually, to confirm that it was real, that it _could _and _would _happen again.

When they caught their breath, they heard screaming.

Chuckling, Prompto grabbed the remote and muted the TV.

“Not much for ambiance.”

“Nope.”

❦

They kissed through the entire _Shanksgiving _marathon. As Prompto pressed his upper body more into Ignis, leaning into the man’s lips, he could almost swear that he was about to burn. The man’s body was just _so warm_, warmer than anyone he had ever met.

The vampire’s lips pulled away for a moment. “Heh… Ignis…”

“Hmm?”

“Your name’s pretty appropriate, ain’t it?”

“I suppose so.”

Chuckling, Prompto reached over and pressed a button on the arm of the couch. The side they were mutually pressed into reclined jarringly quickly, both falling back with it, and they burst into a surprise bout of laughter.

“Sorry—I’ve been meaning to fix that.”

They were still chuckling when they pressed their lips together, Prompto finding Ignis’s lap a nice seat for an even nicer view. Ignis made sure to hold Prompto’s backside close to him, taking firm hold as the vampire’s arms locked around his neck. As deep into it as they were, however, in this position, Ignis couldn’t help but notice something about Prompto.

Prompto…wasn’t as turgid. Or, rather, he wasn’t at all; perhaps this was to be expected, yet still, he had to wonder.

He broke away from a desperate kiss. “Prompto, are you enjoying this?”

“Huh? You kidding, dude? You’re, like, the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”

Ignis couldn’t control his urge to blush. “Ah…”

“No detail escapes your notice, huh?” Prompto actually pressed his hips even closer to Ignis’s, feeling his rise in temperature, however subtle it was. “Here’s another vampire fact for you: this is normal. It’s how it’s always been for me. It’s fine, though… I’m still enjoying myself. Don’t worry about li’l ol’ me.”

With a small sound, Ignis drew his legs up around Prompto. “I’ve really enjoyed concerning myself with you.”

As Prompto laughed, Ignis noticed that Prompto’s own weight and grip seemed to weaken throughout the night.

“Prompto, have you been going without food again?”

“W-well, it’s been tough. The meat supply’s low, which means there isn’t as much blood to even scavenge.”

“Might I suggest feeding time?”

“Uh, it can’t be good for me to drink blood from you every week, dude.”

“Perhaps only a little, then, to keep you going.”

“Good point. I’d say maybe we’re breaking the mood, but…” Prompto shot a glance at the TV, where a man was having his neck bitten by a vampire. “The power of suggestion.”

As Prompto unbuttoned a few more buttons of Ignis’s shirt, his concerns about ruining the mood abated, as much about Ignis remained the same: his heartbeat hastened, delicious blood rushing inside of him, most of it seeming to rush to a particular _area _that still dug into Prompto’s hip. His breath, shaky and uneven, warmed Prompto even as he drew away to undo those buttons, then was stifled with another kiss.

Then he pressed those lips into his jaw. His neck. The flesh of his shoulder. He sank his fangs in delicately, adjacent to an old bite, and drank calmly, having his fill as the spectacled man struggled to control his breathing.

The _rush_, the _lack of control_—

The flow of blood leaving his body to nourish another—

The vampire felt this rush of blood warming him, lighting up his insides; from his head, his body, his fingers and toes, his limbs; he could practically burn up with Ignis’s blood, and he would be content to die that way.

He lightly kissed his way back to the top of Ignis’s neck, almost as if to stall. He could feel the man beneath him flinch.

“Ah, it’s rather tender there,” Ignis said.

“Pardon me,” Prompto apologized in a light and gentle tone. He slipped down Ignis’s body to place delicate, pale lips that seemed to pink with Ignis’s blood slowly filling his veins. “How’s this? Usually I don’t go here, but…”

“Don’t let the circumstances of our meeting fool you, Prompto. I’m quite a bit tougher than you’d imagine.”

“‘Zat so?” Prompto smiled, brushing open Ignis’s unbuttoned shirt.

Prompto withdrew his teeth from Ignis with a gasp, licking away the last of the man’s loose blood and kissing the wound closed as he drew away from him ever slightly. As he did, his hip pressed into Ignis’s once again.

“Ignis?”

Ignis had become tense, almost bracing against the reclined sofa, though not out of fear. No, they had done this enough times already. The man was burning, much like an oven, so that Prompto’s chill against him almost didn’t matter. And he knew that it didn’t, because…

“Yes? You’re finished?” That usually strong tone was faltering.

A grin. “Heh, is this turnin’ you on right now?”

Prompto couldn’t make anything of the noise that came out of Ignis.

“I didn’t catch that,” he continued, teasingly nibbling at the ear. “If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

_Yes, it bloody well is, and you bloody well know this, you damned tart, _Ignis thought. Yet, the only words that left his mouth were, “Perhaps. A _little _bit.” Seldom had Ignis been this close to anyone, in any sense. Even less had he let someone partake of his flesh so _liberally_.

There was no need to try to be so _coy _about it. At least his subconscious could match Prompto’s energy.

The vampire could feel Ignis’s heart racing against him. It reminded him of a heart he once had. All at once, he felt the power he now wielded overwhelm him as he stepped cautiously into new territory.

_...Gods, please tell me to stop_, he thought. _I have no idea what I’m doing._

Still, as he felt Ignis squirm lightly beneath him, Prompto couldn’t help but snicker. Usually, the biting phase was when people fell out of love with vampires, yet the man beneath him was steadily coming apart. That man, with his prim and proper demeanor, an air about his voice that demanded propriety, his well-pressed matching purple leopard print shirts that Prompto was doing a fine job of wrinkling—the man was such an enigma, yet Prompto had him in his grip like putty.

Though Ignis still gripped their shared seat, his entire body began to relax. Was this, _all _of this, the power of vampires? Or was this the true workings of his heart? Had the blond nightwalker captivated him so? Something in the back of his mind still warned him that he should fear for his life, yet Prompto’s presence only set him at ease. _Truly, what _is _this feeling?_

Prompto wrapped his pink lips around Ignis’s nipple, sucking more tenaciously than he had with Ignis’s fresh wounds. Ignis couldn’t contain his gasp, hand finally flying up to caress and entangle with Prompto’s soft, golden locks.

That gentle touch...

That desirous aura…

Why was he doing this? _Why is Ignis letting me do all this?_

Prompto felt something awaken in him that he thought was long gone. Something impossible. Something _human. _Driven by this _something_, he continued to plant open-mouthed kisses on Ignis’s exposed flesh, aiming to make him chuckle just once more. However, in a careless moment, a fang nicked a spot on Ignis’s collarbone.

“Gah!”

“Ack! S-sorry!”

“Is it—it’s bleeding.”

“Hold on!”

Prompto scrambled off the couch, dashing into the next room. Ignis heard a great fuss of commotion before Prompto re-entered the room with a small box in hand.

“I’m so sorry, dude,” Prompto fumbled, setting the box on the couch. “I think a little got on your shirt, too—”

Ignis offered words to calm him. “You really needn’t rush—wait a moment.” He watched as Prompto opened the box up and removed some sterile solution and bandages. “Why do you have a first aid kit?”

“I picked it up with the snacks. Remember? Saving your life ’n junk?”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” _So, he kept them, then._

Thus concluded Prompto’s playful exploration. Neither man nor vampire, however, would or _could _struggle against the gravity that pulled them deeper down into well-worn and aged cushions, a satisfying meal having allowed Prompto’s head to settle into the crook of Ignis’s neck gently and rest for the night.

As they lay there together, Ignis swore that he could have lain there like that forever.


	5. Hot and Cold

As much as he would have liked to stay with Prompto and see how this little vampire lived day-by-day, Ignis found his duty, ingrained on his very soul, calling him back to Insomnia the next day.

His _duty_.

Until now, everything in Ignis’s life had been black-and-white. The line between his official duties and personal life was thin yet definite, and so, too, were the tasks he carried out in life. He was utterly dedicated to the Crown Prince, who he also considered his brother and loved as one, both out of duty as well as out of the care of his heart. Until now, nothing had ever stirred the waters of his devotion; a life lived simply was made simpler still by the fact that he could pour all of his being into this one man—an important figure in the history of Lucis, and a _good_ man. Every important decision was made for _him_. His schedule was shaped all around _him_.

Ignis often stole small pleasures for himself to get by: the kind glance of a stranger, passing for mere seconds before fading into memory; an old hymn hummed in solitude over a hot stove, a melody stored somewhere in the id and resurfacing in times of stress; a cold shower that made him feel awake again, whether morning or evening. He would keep the feelings he had close to his chest, simple desires locked away in his heart. No sooner would each of these small pleasantries fade into the background than when pulled back into harsh reality by the urgency of his sworn oaths, and he would again fall in lock-step with the lot destiny had appointed him.

Along came Prompto.

Feelings of betrayal had already begun forming a knot at the back of Ignis’s throat. What would Gladiolus think? He, too, was like a brother—and, as such, he knew many of Ignis’s secrets. He knew of casual flings (a younger Ignis had described them as mere curiosities). He knew Ignis’s mind. Most of all, he trusted Ignis.

The man came up with an idea. Perhaps this “mere curiosity” that had crept up in Leide could be satisfied for good.

❦

The man didn’t show up at the vampire’s house unannounced, of course. He called ahead and showed up bearing a gift.

“Ignis! You shouldn’t have!” Prompto took the box into his arms as Ignis walked in from, cradling it much like a baby.

“I think you’ll quite like it,” Ignis said, a smile in his voice. “In fact, I _know _you will.”

Sitting on the couch together, Prompto admired the box for a moment while an eager Ignis awaited its opening. The box was a fine and sturdy golden giftbox, an ornate, glittered, yellow bow holding it shut and glinting faintly in the low light of the living room. Its sight alone entranced Prompto; he’d never received such a gift, and the box itself seemed to light up the room. He carefully untied the bow sealing his gift, wondering how it could get any better.

He gasped. Reaching in, he gently pulled out a tiny, yellow, heart-shaped bat plush, squeezing it between his fingers. “My ’bat-sona’!”

“I thought you should have it,” Ignis said with an undertone of pride. “I think it suits you.”

“Aw, Ignis, thank you!” His blue eyes flashed up at Ignis, a look of pure joy spread across his face. Those eyes pleaded for a hug, and when he spread an arm, Ignis obliged. Prompto squeezed the tiny bat between them for a group hug. “This might be the closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a birthday present.”

Ignis’s eyes widened. “Oh? It’s your birthday?”

“Actually, it was a few days before you showed up here. I think. Was never a hundred percent sure the day, either, but it’s been a while since it’s been relevant, anyhow.”

“In that case, I am either very late or extremely early. Either way, happiest of birthdays, Prompto.” Ignis lay a sweet kiss on Prompto’s forehead, eliciting a giggle as Prompto leaned slightly into it. This close to him, he noticed that Prompto was again on the gaunt side. “Still low on food?”

“Unforch, yeah.”

“Looks like it’s time for your feeding, then.”

“But ya just got here! Don’t you wanna, like, relax, have some snacks, play a game or somethin’? Oh yeah, forgot to mention, but I found some old board games in the attic—”

“Prompto. Please. My mind won’t rest until I know you’ve been taken care of.”

Prompto’s soft smile turned into something slightly more devious, his eyes filled with knowing as he read Ignis’s rather serious body language. “Ah. I see. Well, then… Shall we assume the position?”

…

Ignis had quickly grown accustomed to feeling Prompto’s weight upon him as he went for his favorite feeding spot. Prompto, likewise, had become familiar with Ignis’s scents, his breathing, all of his little twitches and subtle motions as he relaxed into Prompto’s work. One could hardly imagine a man like Ignis so relaxed, especially not under the fangs of a vampire, yet here he was, willfully subjecting himself to this—no, _submitting _to Prompto.

What a thrill.

Something about the way Prompto did this was _so_ careful, _so _tender. Lying atop him, a hand gently braced against Ignis’s chest, he would barely caress the skin of his neck as his lips found their way downward, nose just barely brushing against the side of his Adam’s apple. A tiny part of his mind still told him that he should be feeling an abject horror at the invasion of those fangs against the flesh of his inner shoulder, but Prompto’s touch had practically unwound him. Never had he been so _familiar_ with someone, and all of it put comfort in his heart.

He had let Prompto take the reins with his body multiple times, something previously relegated to strict and sterile doctors. Prompto, meanwhile, handled Ignis’s body quite favorably. As a bonus, Prompto’s body was quite cool to the touch. It would only warm as he spent more time leaning into Ignis, drinking his blood, letting it flow into him and warming him further. He could feel Prompto draining away that extra stress, the burning anxiety he constantly tried to bury, the problem-seeking subconscious that even tried to ruin such intimate moments as this.

Yes, previously, and even now, Ignis had thought to ask Prompto to stop, even when he had suggested—nay, _insisted _upon this himself. His deepest desires forbade his more superficial worries from surfacing; with each feeding, he let go more and more of the inhibitions he had, the hangups telling him that this, for whatever yet-unknown reason, could possibly be a mistake. Feeling Prompto’s body press into his hips, he let the vampire take him ever closer toward bliss.

And it was working.

Prompto let Ignis relax as he ground his hips into him further, knowing this would detract from the sting as he sunk his teeth in more deeply.

“Ah—”

Prompto withdrew his fangs momentarily, chasing a stray line of blood before it could touch Ignis’s shirt. “You all right?”

The vampire was sure to drive him mad.

“Continue.” Spoken through heavy breath.

Prompto sat himself up and back for a moment to admire Ignis’s expression. He felt as though this passionate look was rare, even for one so fiery as he.

“Oh, _Ignis_.”

And in that moment, Prompto looked sanguine, almost as if alive, nearly glowing with the flow of Ignis’s blood within him. He sunk his teeth back in, this time gripping at Ignis’s chest as if he needed extra help latching on. Legs locked against Ignis’s hips, he pressed against the firmness there while Ignis squirmed ever so slightly.

All of it—the warming vampire’s friction, the press of his mouth into his flesh, the strength with which Prompto grinded into him, the nigh-animalistic utterings of breath Prompto took between drinks, the way the blond simply helped himself—finally overwhelmed Ignis.

Prompto finished his drink and looked down. Pulling his hips back from Ignis’s seat of a lap, he noticed a wet spot growing on dark pants. He looked Ignis dead in the eye, an involuntary smirk creeping up on his face.

“Apologies,” Ignis said after a moment, his heart betraying his breath, his eyes darting away as the redness in his face deepened. “I promise you that I am not a virgin.”

Prompto winked. “Your first time with a vampire ain’t like anything else.”

❦

For all that huffing and squirming Ignis had done the last time he had visited, Prompto did not see or hear from him for a while after.

_Ain’t that how it is_, Prompto thought one evening, looking down at a phone still at zero new messages. _Love ’em and leave ’em. Thanks for the food, I guess._

Prompto could make excuses for him—_Oh, he’s from Insomnia, people there have busy lives, plus he works for the Crown, he’s fancy and high-born and cool—_but it was much easier to simply be lonely at this point. After all, mortals were to come and go. He may not have been alive for as long as _some_ vampires, but he had been alive long enough to know that no one ever sticks around for long.

His usual routine—sleep, search desperately for food, go to work (if he was needed by Wiz the Grocer or Dave the Butcher, that is), watch TV, make sure he has not been discovered by anyone, tinker a little in the back shop, sleep—fell right back into place. Life was meant to be more than this, he felt, but at least he had the internet. (Online, no one knew he was a vampire. However, it did not matter anyhow, as he only had twenty-two followers on social media.)

…

Prompto rose from his bed, yawning, scratching, running fingers through the hair stuck to the sides of his face. Another beautiful, dark night.

He was not very dirty, but as he had work tonight, he figured he may as well shower. He laundered his own clothes, tending to wear the same things over and over until they wore out; for work, he pulled on an old tee and jeans, with a heavy coat in addition. True cold weather hadn’t even begun, but he still loathed the weather.

Wiz only asked him to help with the store on the rare nights that he was preoccupied with something. This was one such night. The remote, twenty-four-hour grocer didn’t see much foot traffic on nights like this, either, but someone had to be there to keep an eye on things and get started on inventory.

_Of course he’d have me do inventory,_ Prompto thought as he counted the cheese, idly wishing he had an appetite of any normal sort.

He thought about the walk here, oddly serene with the light of the nearly-full moon. Traversing the shadows, he saw a lonely couple traversing a moonlit path as he himself stuck to the shadows. It could have been the gruesome start to a horror film, yet Prompto shrunk away like a mouse in the eye of its prey and kept quiet.

That’s when his phone had gone off in his pocket. Vibrate, thankfully.

Silencing it quickly, he took a brief look at the name on the screen—_Ignis_—and went deeper into the forest to answer.

He spoke in a low tone. “Hello? Ignis?”

“Prompto, good evening. I thought I should give you a call, seeing as it’s been a while.”

“Uh, yeah. I just assumed you got too embarrassed to face me.” Prompto snickered, all the while looking somewhat waylaid.

Ignis cleared his throat. “Truth be told, I’ve been embroiled in matters of a political nature for quite some time now. It’s emotionally draining at least and all-consuming at most.”

“Sounds like it.” Prompto could hardly conceive of politics in the City of Light, but here Ignis was, handling all of it, just like the fancy man he had begun to build up in his mind.

“It’s regrettable that I haven’t been able to meet with you lately. It would prove difficult to bring you into the city, so close to the light of the Crystal, as well. Perhaps we can meet someplace halfway to make it easier.”

“I’d say that’s a good idea, but I don’t even know where it’d be safe for us.”

“Funny you should mention that. There’s a place I know, due north of where you live—Hammerhead, a body shop just past a large farm. You would be covered there, especially at night, when few are around. It’s the ideal spot to meet. I would love if you could make it.”

❦

As dictated by his personality, Ignis arrived quite early: the sun still had at least an hour until setting, by his estimation, and glowed high in the sky of the Leidan flatlands. He had stricken up a brief yet fulfilling conversation with the proprietors of Hammerhead, content to pass the time with them until they had to get back to their never-ending tasks.

Not long into his wait, he noticed an old junker sitting just outside of the parking lot, a bit off in the shadows of Takka’s, the nearby diner. Curious to see if such an interesting and vaguely-familiar-looking car had happened to break down in that particular spot, he walked over to it. Surely enough, nobody was inside, but was it _ever_ so familiar.

A memory flashed into his vision.

This was the junker that had been sitting in Prompto’s yard, covered in tall grass and weeds and creeping vines. One could look and tell that it took some effort to gain its practical use, but one would also not be surprised if it suddenly fell apart when it stood.

“Psst.”

A sound traveled along the shadows to Ignis’s ear. He turned and walked carefully in that direction.

“Who’s there?”

“Psssst.”

“Prompto…?”

A figure, wrapped head-to-toe, hand-to-foot in bright, white clothing, sat hunched in the shadow of the Takka’s building, looking Ignis’s way. Looking wildly out-of-place, he almost resembled someone about to go on a winter hike, layered clothing puffing out his thin form, thick beanie protecting his head. The gloves were a mismatched winter leather biker’s glove and a baseball mitt, for some reason. The only visible indication that this creature even had a face was the pair of thick sunglasses. The rest of its face was covered by a mouth mask and a drawn-in hoodie. This whole outfit would have been a little discomfortingdiscomfiting if Ignis had not immediately figured out what was going on.

“Hey, Ignis.”

Ignis set his hands on his hips. “Prompto, does…_this_…really work?”

“Yeah! Well, kinda. It’s cool! White helps to reflect the sunlight. People wear white further into the desert.”

“I see… Wouldn’t the sun’s UV rays still cause you discomfort?”

“I’m wearin’ mega layers, dude! And besides, the sun is on its way out—I’m close to bein’ in the clear!” He paused with a bit of a shy sway. “Also… It’s worth it to see you out in the sunlight. I...yeah.”

Ignis walked closer, placing a hand on Prompto’s shoulder with a gentle smile. “Worth it to see you out here as well. Well, the parts of you that I _can_ see.”

Prompto was grinning under his mask. “I kinda feel like I’m in a spy movie.”

“You’re the most conspicuous spy I’ve ever seen. And you drove here like this? Didn’t people…_notice_?”

“I just told everyone nearby that I was a leper. Gave me a _wide_ berth after that.”

“Ah… Effective.” A grin came to Ignis’s lips as he looked at his vampire’s ridiculous state. “You came _much _too early.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Ignis folded his arms. “Walked into that, I suppose.”

“I, for one, _love _low-hanging fruit.”

“I’ll just leave that one alone,” Ignis chuckled, his face softening as he gazed at Prompto’s obscured visage. “Why did you put yourself through all this?”

“I guess I just…_really_ wanted to see ya.”

Prompto put his hands around Ignis’s shoulders as Ignis slipped his arms down to Prompto’s hips. The sun, moving at a steady pace, had shed a sliver of light on their faces as the shadows shifted.

“It _is _starting to _hurt _a little, though.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

…

Takka’s diner, like so many other diners throughout the old parts of Lucis, was a hub for information, but it was also a place where people knew when to keep to themselves. Ignis had a meal uninterrupted while Prompto chatted him up.

When Ignis finally finished his food, he up looked into Prompto’s eyes, bright with an inquisitive passion. He really did admire those eyes; even if the rest of Prompto’s face was still obscured, their crisp aqua hue was more than enough to read his expression. Covered like this from head-to-toe, out in the middle of nowhere with the man whose life he had saved, Prompto had somehow managed to open himself to Ignis even more.

The vampire placed a hand on the man’s. “Is this, like…a _thing_?”

“Well, it would certainly seem like it.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Someone like _you_…with someone like _me_…a _leper_?”

“That hasn’t seemed to pose much issue so far.”

Ignis leaned in to peck Prompto on his fabric-colored lips. Again, Prompto felt his body almost burn with the desire to blush. Along with as much sun exposure as he had gotten this past day, he could simply explode.

…

The two of them scaled the Hammerhead garage without much trouble and sat together on the roof to observe as the stars emerged over the flatlands.

Ignis flashed the cornflower-haired vampire a smile. “The same stars shine for mortals and vampires alike.”

Prompto smiled, leaning into him, feeling his warmth, a hearth in the cold desert night.

After some time contemplating in silence, Ignis piped up again.

“Prompto, are you alright to get home? I know this day has taken its toll on you.”

“Yeah, funny you should ask… So, I know the point of meeting out here was so neither of us would have to go so far, but my car, she just kinda crapped out as soon as I got here, and I bolted before anyone tried to help me…”

Ignis could not help but chortle.

“Can I get a lift, _boyfriend_?”

With that, Ignis’s chuckle transformed into a full-on blush.


	6. Prompto

If only that were the start of a beautiful set of rendezvous between the two, taking place at the most scenic and romantic parts of the country. No—after an urgent call cut Ignis’s night short and beckoned him back to the Citadel, the two of them would not meet again for quite some time. Ignis was, of course, tied up with matters of the Crown; Prompto, with visions of his boyfriend’s so-told cooking skill dancing in his head, meanwhile took up cooking—or, rather, watching cooking shows on his phone whenever he got the opportunity.

After all, if he was going to visit (and it seemed like this would continue to be the case, as Prompto had suffered the first sunburn he had ever gotten in his entire life due to their last meetup), the vampire had to make sure that Ignis had enough body fuel to make the trip back. The energy bars Ignis had been living on since the days of his Crownsguard apprenticeship would hardly suffice these days. Prompto could tell, looking into the man’s eyes after those long days they had shared.

Little would life and distance come between them. Both constantly knew what the other was up to, thanks to instant messaging.

Ignis himself spent one particular morning in his kitchen, an early—and urgently—ordered chaos of cake ingredients gradually coalescing into their desired forms alongside his breakfast. Prompto’s messaging was relentless; perhaps he’d been sleepless again.

_“Prompto, I’ve my hands full at the moment. Could we speakerphone, perhaps? Or video chat?”_

_“oooooo video chat! wonder if it will work!”_

_“Ah yes, the matter of your reflection. I suppose we’ll find out, though, Prompto, should you not have already used your phone’s camera? Even on accident?”_

_“O shit”_

After another half-minute, an incoming call sounded on Ignis’s phone. He answered, withdrawing from his batter-stirring momentarily to see Prompto pop up on the screen.

“There you are.”

“Shit’s wild, right? I never thought to use the camera on here!”

“You’re being serious.”

“Guess I just assumed it would…never work, y’know? Oh, this is great, though! I was thinking I was gonna hafta like, paint my whole body, or get a zentai suit, or cover myself in dust so you could see me on screen. That would be fun. That’s almost some horror movie stuff right there, huh? Oh, but I don’t look half bad! I could look way worse than this!”

“You look just fine, especially for one who’s not much of a morning person,” Ignis hummed, propping his phone up to see Prompto as he resumed his baking tasks. “How did you manage to avoid opening the front-facing camera by mistake all this time?”

“Dumb luck, I guess. Ooo! Are you making a cake? Is it for the prince? Is it his birthday? Or is this politics, too?”

Ignis sighed. “Everything I do now has become political in some way. Originally, this was for a small gathering, but now more have been ordered from _on high_, so to speak, so I have got to produce. It’s really a job for at least two people, but as they say, good help is hard to find… “

“Man, you’re really serious about cake. Don’t mind me if I just kinda…take some notes…”

Ignis heard some rustling and looked up to the phone. Prompto was scrambling for something.

“Prompto, I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to go out of your way to cook for me.” Ignis thought not to remark on the nutritional value of such sweets for now. He would only be eating cakes made for him in secret, after all.

“It’s gonna be so good, though!” Prompto now possessed pen and paper, determined to learn from Ignis’s example. “You told me that cookin’s like, ninety-percent following instructions, right? And the other ten percent is heart… Well, I can do one of those things!”

“You have a heart, Prompto. If your mind is set on cooking, I shall look forward to what you have in store.”

“That ain’t all I’ve got in store,” Prompto said with a grin both on his face and in his voice. Posing with a large stirring spoon, he began to make goofy yet seductive noises.

“Prompto… Why do you even have one of those right now?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

The camera frame shook for a moment as Prompto repositioned his phone to be able to view more than just his upper half. Lying back on the couch, legs splayed apart, Prompto angled the spoon upward between where his legs met.

“Prompto.”

“I needed a way to visually represent the way you make me feel.”

No answer.

“I know, I’m exaggerating a little bit.”

Ignis stared into the phone, clearly turning red. Any effort he had made to convince Prompto he had enough sexual experience was erased by his quickly-flustered state.

“Really? Right in front of my batter?”

“Batter? I’m the only bat around here, remember? Wait, if I’m the batter, does that make you the catcher?”

“Prompto, that doesn’t make _any sense_—”

“Pitcher! It’s _pitcher _and _catcher_. Duh. Why don’t I be the pitcher and _pour _you a glass, boy!” With a wink and a laugh, Prompto sat forward, setting the spoon to the side, making cute faces into the camera yet again.

“Of what? Batter? That’d be a waste.”

The just-short-of-sexy faces continued. “Not if you lick it all off.”

“There are eggs in this, Prompto.”

“So?”

“One…cannot eat raw eggs.”

“Why let that stop you?”

“Prompto, are you sure you want to learn how to cook?”

“Listen here, Ignis.” Prompto removed his shirt, the swift motion puffing up his airy hair as it slipped over his head. “I’m good at one, maybe two, things. I could be better at more. But I think you already know what I’m _best _at.”

Ignis was over-stirring his bowl of batter. It had begun to harden, and the timer for pouring it into the pan had already gone off. “A-and what would that be?”

“Sucking, _duh_.”

“A-ah. Of course.”

“Believe it or not, you’re making me hungry right now. Better hurry over here before I waste away~”

“Prompto, some of the livestock should be replenished by now.”

“Yeah, but they don’t got that extra _kick_.”

Ignis cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do.”

❦

Ignis had to be extra fancy for his first official Boyfriend Visit. After wrapping up his “duties” in record time (and shuffling off any remaining tasks to his subordinates, which he really should have done more often), he decided he would devote the next forty-eight hours to Prompto alone. After all, beneath all the sexy posturing, he had seen in Prompto’s eyes that which had lurked there the entire time he had known him: a deep and unyielding loneliness.

_How lonely a vampire in this world must be._

So he wore his suit and his musk, thinking it might be extra fun for Prompto to “peel” him before his feeding. He picked up a gift for him: the finest cow blood Insomnian butchers could spare. He played songs that reminded him of Prompto on his drive all the way down. He thought of how much Prompto would enjoy the “blood cake” he’d made for him as well, a gelatinous dish from farther east that he had thought to experiment with before his next visit.

And he smiled the entire drive over.

When he knocked on the door, no one answered.

“Prompto? You there?”

More knocking, no answering…at least, not until he paused a moment to text him instead. Perhaps the little vamp’s sleep schedule was off, and he was still asleep here at the bottom of sunfall. But then the door began to crack open.

Paler than ever, Prompto’s whole form was forlorn, shoulders sunken forward, hair flat to the sides of his face. “Come in.”

Both of them sat on the couch in their usual spots. Ignis’s expression dimmed as he observed Prompto’s body language, curled up beside him with arms wrapped around his legs. Hair a mess, slightly-too-large fleece pajamas hanging off of his hips and shoulders, Prompto looked hardly different than he had on this morning’s call; he hadn’t gotten dressed to start his night at all.

Ignis searched his memory for any missteps and came up blank. “Prompto, I came as quickly as I could. What’s the matter?”

Prompto faced away from him, leaning his temple gently against a knee. He had let Ignis in, so he had to want him around…or so Ignis hoped.

“Prompto, if this is about the livestock incident still—”

“It’s not that,” Prompto said, cutting him off as he looked back at him. “What? I already forgot about that, man.”

Ignis frowned; Prompto’s voice was almost completely flat. Sighing, he went to stash his gifts in the refrigerator before returning to Prompto’s side. “Are you okay?” He reflexively reached for Prompto’s forehead, feeling the usual lack of warmth and immediately mentally dinging himself for it.

Nonetheless, Prompto smiled under Ignis’s touch, cracking a dry laugh. “Wouldn’t it be something if it _was _warm, though?”

Ignis withdrew his hand, eyes lingering on Prompto’s demure half-smile. Prompto’s stature improved as he sat more upright, dry tongue licking dry lips as he prepared to say something, then stopped. Ignis could see in those eyes the usual torment of need, a yearning for something to break through—a need to share. Yet those eyes, not unlike his own, were also sharply calculating.

For all the unknown danger Ignis thought he could put himself into by cavorting with a vampire, he had also been acutely aware that somewhere in his mind, he posed a threat to Prompto as well, even if they had offered each other the gentle touches of their hands and embrace of their hearts. Ill could come to them both, even unwittingly.

Even if it were only emotional ill.

“I just had a bad dream,” the vampire finally answered, pulling at a loose string in the leg of his pajama pants.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Ignis moved himself an inch closer to Prompto; nothing more.

A deep sigh. “Not really.” Prompto ran a hand back through cornflower-golden hair and sighed again as his mind ran through words, only to settle on what came naturally. “It wasn’t so much a dream as it was a one-to-one memory. A bad one. From long ago.”

“Memories can be rather hurtful.”

“What would you know? You’re the Hand of the Prince… You get to make cakes all day.” Groaning, Prompto dropped his face into his palms. “Sorry. That was… You didn’t deserve that.”

“You know, the prince is not unlike a brother to me,” Ignis said, his tone even, not having budged in the slightest. “When you are this close to someone, it pains you to see them suffer, and I assure you, we’ve had our fair share of mutual hurt.”

Prompto relaxed his body, turning to face Ignis fully. “Really?”

“When he saw my scars upon returning after my big scare here, he remarked jokingly that I was trying to catch up with him.”

“Damn…”

Prompto sat in contemplation for a moment more. Ignis could feel the waves of anxiety radiating off of him as Prompto tried to avoid his eyes. They jumped back to attention when Ignis placed a soft hand on Prompto’s shoulder, allaying the palpable nervousness.

“I’m…not like other vampires, Ignis. I wasn’t bit. I didn’t do the vampire exchange to turn—somebody _made_ me into a monster.”

“You’re not a monster—”

“Let me finish.” Another sigh. He slipped down the band that always covered his right wrist and guided Ignis’s eyes to the flesh there, where rest two perfectly round scars. “Kinda looks like I was bit, right? But no, it was a machine. A big, horrible machine. Every time I dream, it gets bigger and more horrible. They put my arm in it, and—”

“No…”

“I was, like, five, six at the time? I remember everything about what happened after that. I mean, I blacked out for a bit from the pain of that horrible machine, but I got woken up again by a different pain. I realize now that I had been _dying—_you have to die to become a vampire, see.”

“Prompto, how did you get to this…laboratory? Where were you?”

“Niflheim. Probably no surprise, huh?” He flashed a weak smile. “I was kind of a latchkey kid early on. Dunno if my parents ever found out what happened, but I can’t go back there.”

“So you escaped and fled the country.”

Prompto had recalled a burning feeling, like every cell in his body blazed into molten lava and then cooled into onyx; no pain since then had ever been like it, such extreme feelings of agony and loneliness and despair to be swiftly replaced with emptiness and _nothing_. For time uncounted he had stayed there, and he had grown until he stopped growing, and he was “beautiful”; so the chief scientist had called him.

And yet, filled with nothingness and devoid of hope, part of him had wished to escape to a life that was his and his alone.

His opportunity had come in the form of what he would later learn was a Lucian raid, his flight having taken place amid flurries of bullets and magical weapons equal in measure to that of the scientific military compound. He would come face to face with a group of Lucian soldiers who sought to take him to the Crown Jewel of Lucis, Insomnia, only to abandon him in the tundra when the days became too harsh.

In Niflheim, the nights were long.

_“He belongs out here.”_

“Yeah.”

The nightmare had coalesced into more memories, as it always did.

He had walked through the wilderness, afraid, cold, alone, traveling the outskirts step by step under cover of night, unable to die.

He had eaten what he could: rats, rabbits, bats. Garulets were too risky, and too large besides. At least at night, he had the advantage, storming holes and nests for something to eat, and caves when the night had failed him.

Then there had been a dog: he would come to find that she had a bright, red collar. She could have belonged to one of the several mushers, hill people, or hunters who lived in the thick of the Niflheim tundra, and that day, she had wandered far. On that day, she was Prompto’s playmate.

Or, she could have been. But he was so, so hungry, and she was so, so warm…

“I was starving, Ignis.”

The pain had been one previously unimaginable; his body had been rearing to buckle, vision blurring, breaths burning. That dog, she was going to save him.

The blood in the snow horrified him; there had been so much, and little was he spared. With a full stomach, he felt good as new—in fact, better than he had ever been. Yet, with blood spilled over his body, the ache in the remnants of his soul rendered him immobile. He lay there under dark, clouded skies, waiting to die.

Garula, scavengers, they would not even near him.

Niflheim’s sun shone pale behind clouds that constantly threatened fresh snow. Perhaps he were to eventually stop moving, stop thinking.

Yet, after enough time had passed, raw instinct would drive him to rise again, to feed again, at any and all costs. And, as had become usual, he would be good as new.

Prompto choked through sobs. “I didn’t want to, Ignis.”

“It’s okay,” said Ignis, pulling the dear vampire into his arms.

“No, it’s not!”

“You were hardly more than a child, Prompto—a child in such horrifying conditions. You did only the things you could do. It isn’t—”

“I thought you’d say something like that.”

“It’s true.”

“It still hurts.”

He had been cursed like this, cursed and abandoned.

Prompto had lived and walked his curse until, finally, he came to a realization: he had to go somewhere where non-human, non-pet blood was readily available. In all his isolation, he had heard of a thriving, more generous kingdom across the sea. To reach it became his only goal.

Walking the tracks to Cartanica, catching the train as a stowaway, Prompto had decided to own this curse. He would travel to the largest city in Lucis in order to do so. The first soul he’d met along the way, a silver-haired lass who had seemed at home in the snow, would affirm his direction and single-handedly guide Prompto’s course into society.

Because she was like him. They were the same. He was the same as Aranea, as Coctura, as Dino, as Vyv, as Crowe, as Nyx. And, though their styles may have clashed over time, they certainly were not monsters.

Fortunately, Prompto could deal with loneliness. Until now, that was.

Ignis buried his face against the soft, cornflower hair of his partner. “You became the person you are because of what you’ve endured and the choices you’ve made, and I admire you for it.” Pulling back slightly, his eyes mirrored the pride he carried in his voice.

Their bodies joined again, and though the dream had opened old wounds, Prompto could feel Ignis’s warmth rejuvenating him, a balm on the body, mind, and soul. Anxiety and sadness crept away as Prompto envisioned himself being healed by the radiating heat. He imagined that this truly must be what living in the light of the Crystal must be like.

“Eat. You’ll feel better.”

Prompto fed to his fill and fell back asleep atop the Lucian’s half-bare chest, a real and deep rest descending upon him.

❦

They both woke in an hour and a half’s time, stirred only by Ignis’s dire need to use the restroom. Comforting him that he would soon return to resume pillow duty, Ignis slipped away for but a moment.

When he returned, he froze in the door frame. Prompto had drawn open a curtain to moonbathe. Such a sight was he, draped across the couch, limbs spread wide, pale hair shining, periwinkle eyes dancing in the light of a full moon. His skin, flushed with Ignis’s blood, glowed warm in a normally-cool light. He still felt vulnerable, as vulnerable as those days he had lain in the snow under dim Niflheim sun and survived, and like those days, he possessed a strong will to live. Now, he wanted to _really_ live—to act freely on the desires of his heart—to feel the fire of Ignis’s sun burn him.

Would he know? _Does he know?_

Stranger things have happened on nights like these.

Ignis let the moon take possession of him.

Finally joining Prompto on the couch, Ignis crawled over him, promptly pressing together their lips. Prompto reciprocated by biting—_just _gently—into their kiss, causing Ignis to gasp into it. As Ignis cupped Prompto’s face, the vampire brought their hips together by lacing his legs around Ignis. Continuing to follow his urges, Ignis pressed his hardening bulge against Prompto’s, letting his vampire feel his heat. Then, it hit him…

_Prompto’s bulge…_

He suddenly drew back. “Prompto! You’re…”

“Keep going.” Prompto lightly guided Ignis’s head toward his neck. “Kiss me like I kiss you.”

Ignis did as told, enjoying as Prompto’s body rolled into his on each kiss as if it craved something more, something _deeper_. It was as if Ignis left touches of sun against his skin, yet attempting to warm him one kiss at a time wasn’t enough; he would use his entire body. When Ignis dared to bite, the light incisions of his teeth drew no blood and faded back into flushed and freckled skin, drawing nothing more than deep gasps, though the feeling would warm Prompto much like the heat of Ignis’s body. He wouldn’t stop; Prompto’s grip in his hair told him not to stop.

“You’re gorgeous, Prompto,” Ignis breathed between kisses. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Tell me more…” Prompto gasped as Ignis rolled a bit of his flesh under his teeth.

“I’ve wanted you from the first moment we met. How could I have been so blind…”

“Heh… You have me now.”

Smiling, Ignis drew back only to guide Prompto’s legs open and draw down Prompto’s pants, revealing a lack of underwear and a rigidity yet unseen. Prompto’s smile matched his; he had never had the chance to wear such a look with pride. “This…is a first for you, isn’t it?”

Prompto nodded, winking. “Looks like you’ve been chosen.”

Ignis chuckled.

“Well? Why’d ya stop? Time’s a-wastin’!” Prompto tensed his legs around Ignis once again. “I dunno how long it’ll be like this.”

Ignis’s almost boner-killing penchant for safety and procedure began to emerge. “Prompto, we still need to consider—safety, condoms—”

“Seriously?! Just hurry up and wreck me! It’ll sort itself out!”

“At least let me find something with which to lubricate?”

“Okay, _fine_,” Prompto whined lightly, realizing that it probably would improve the experience and releasing Ignis from the vice grip of his thighs. Sliding off the rest of his pants, he kept the motor hot by giving his exposed erection a few good pumps, almost recoiling at the motion. “_Fuck_, that feels way better than usual…”

Tearing his eyes away from such beauty, and with little time to spare, Ignis quickly referred to the lubricant he had brought with him and returned to Prompto’s side. With a gentle hand to the chest, Prompto pushed the taller man over onto his back, then took the lube from him.

“Why don’t we go with the ol’ tried-and-true position?”

“Fine by me.”

This time, Prompto got to admire Ignis as he pulled his pants open and applied a generous amount of lube. Ethereally soft hands caused Ignis to gasp and rock his hips forward into Prompto’s gentle grip. Prompto resisted the urge to finish him there, desiring to savor the look of pleasure on Ignis’s face. He went in for one more kiss, stealing Ignis’s glasses as he pulled back again and set them to the side.

Ignis could only watch as Prompto then applied the lubricant to himself. He did so in a rush, wasting no time whatsoever before repositioning himself on Ignis’s hips.

“Ah!” Ignis felt Prompto’s cool body engulf him, and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He did not know why, but the feeling thrilled him like none other; he felt the tiny hairs of his whole body rise in a small, brief wave as Prompto’s flesh settled around him.

With a chuckle, Prompto threw his arms around Ignis’s neck. “Don’t stop, all right?”

Ignis took firm hold of Prompto’s hips. “Gladly.”

As Ignis began to move, Prompto yelped; with as warm as Ignis was generally, he should not have been surprised at the intense heat he had just accepted inside of him, yet it really came short of burning.

“Everything okay?” Ignis said, ceasing his movement.

“H-hey! What’d I just tell you?” It felt _nice_ after that moment more of adjusting, and he let Ignis know that by wiggling his butt just a little.

“A-ah, very well.”

Holding on, Ignis thrust his hips up into Prompto quickly and loudly, intent on warming Prompto up quickly. Overwhelmed, Prompto reached for a neck, a back, anything he could grasp and hold as Ignis worked the breath out of him. Not only could he feel the heat of Ignis’s body—he felt the blood coursing through his veins, making every little sensation that much more powerful. The grip of Ignis’s nails in his skin. The press of his head against that little spot that makes everything _so_ much better. The puffs of breath against the skin of his neck. The press of his dick into Ignis’s stomach.

He already felt like he might lose it. He could not allow himself to: he _had _to outdo Ignis. Fortunately, he knew what he liked.

Prompto squeezed down onto Ignis as he leaned in and bit into the meatiest part of Ignis’s shoulder, drawing back as he also lifted himself, then slammed his ass into Ignis’s hips once again. He smiled as Ignis’s deep groans rumbled against him, then pressed him further back against the couch before leaning in again.

“You like this, huh?” he teased as he gently sunk his teeth into the top of Ignis’s chest, taking care not to hit bone or heart. He licked the new wounds clean, and they already began to heal. “Just tell me where.”

“You’re doing well enough,” Ignis breathed, failing to hide how far along he was. “Surprise me more.”

Prompto eagerly bit again, closer to his arm, as he rose up and down again, and continued this pattern: biting, licking, kissing the wounds shut. Ignis gasping, melting as Prompto’s own body heat began to match his, feeling for the first time the vampire’s heart racing, matching his own. A rude interruption of this established rhythm came in the form of a sudden hand tightly gripped around his dick. Before he had the chance to protest, his lips were pulled into another kiss, and his hands were bracing against Ignis as electrified kisses dared to be their mutual undoing.

Nothing warm spilled over Ignis’s torso, but he can feel Prompto throbbing in his hand. The blond pulled away to gasp, and Ignis reached forward to muffle his cries with more kisses. The more his hand moved, the longer the pulsing continued, Prompto all the while tightening further around Ignis’s length. Prompto sobbed gasps of pleasure into Ignis’s neck as Ignis, too, finally lost his composure. Like a volcano, Prompto felt Ignis’s lava flow into him and kissed him, over and over, taking in his heat, listening to him moan in his ear.

After a moment of peaceful rest, Ignis removed himself from Prompto, his lava spilling out after him. They both lay, hands entwined, listening to the beat of each other’s hearts.


	7. After Life

Only daybreak could wake Ignis from such a heavy slumber. It was not just that the sun had risen, but that it had begun to cast its glow across the two of them, a sliver of a ray announcing its presence and suggesting, in Ignis’s eye, that he should wake. Prompto smoldered lightly where the sun hit his skin, though not enough to rouse him, and without further disturbance, Ignis unwound himself from the loving tangle of pale limbs to rise to the curtains and draw them shut.

Then he admired the blond in his peaceful sleep. What he wouldn’t give to witness him in the full glory of daylight, skin warm and red and livened with sustenance.

Ignis wove himself back into Prompto’s arms, and they continued to doze.

…

Prompto’s own circadian rhythm woke him at dusk, and he found himself turning slightly and looking up at a half-awake Ignis holding him in his lap. Not only did he still feel awash in pleasure, but he felt remarkably clean and tended-to. Cared for.

Loved.

“This might be the nicest way I’ve ever woken up,” he said, smiling as Ignis touched his cheek gently. _Such warm hands…_

“You’re looking rather well this evening.”

“I owe that to _someone _in a big way.” Prompto maintained his grin as he sniffed the air. “Did you…cook something?”

Ignis nodded. “I hated to disturb you, but it looked as though you were sleeping quite deeply. I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you manage to route the meteor shard’s power to the kitchen? The electrical situation in there is, well…a bit _dangerous _for most.”

“Yeah, I might have to go shut that back off… Glad you didn’t die, though! Especially from the food. Can’t really tell what’s gone bad and whatnot.”

“No concerns there.”

Prompto turned over in Ignis’s lap, leaning on his chest as blue eyes glinted up at him. “So… You didn’t have to leave last night, huh? How long I gotcha for?”

“I…didn’t tell anyone I was taking this trip,” Ignis said. “I just wrapped up my tasks and left. I wanted to see you.”

“I can see it in your eyes—you’re achin’ to go back.”

“I want to let them know that I’m fine. But…” Putting his arms around Prompto, he pulled the vampire up closer. “_I _know that _I_ am okay. All I want is to think of you right now. Only you.”

“Then you’re up for another go.”

“Of course, _darling_.”

That word, that voice, sent a shiver down Prompto’s spine and drove his lips right to Ignis’s. Their hungered kisses paused only for the urgent removal of Ignis’s glasses before their dance of tongues resumed. Ignis bore no fear of Prompto’s teeth; he even welcomed them as they continually knicked against soft skin.

Ignis breathed carefully as Prompto slipped downward to tease his neck. “Need to top off?”

“I’m good. And besides, can’t just keep drinking from you!”

“I’m fine; don’t worry. I’ve got plenty. You must keep up your energy. After all, blood is a finite resource.”

Prompto ground his seat deeper into Ignis’s hips. “Want me to _show _you how _good_ I am right now?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

…

Prompto rerouted the kitchen’s power to the bathroom, and the two of them shared a hot shower. The vampire preferred the heat of Ignis’s skin to the steam of the water, but both in tandem were likely to reduce him to a puddle.

…

Ignis convinced Prompto to drink just a bit more blood to compensate for what had been used during their _vigorous _activities. It, of course, led to more such activities.

…

Prompto helped Ignis cook for the first time: learning just what made a meal healthy, obtaining knowledge about proper portions, and, most importantly, seeing what Ignis liked. And what Ignis liked was sweets.

“Y’know, this cooking stuff’s pretty fun,” Prompto said. “Maybe having cooking utensils in here’ll make a nice decoy for any unexpected visitors, too.”

“In that case, you had better keep stock of the emergency blood packs and stow them appropriately, or otherwise…”

“Aw, man! What would I even _do _with those on short notice?”

“Have a _bloody _good time finishing them off.”

Ignis became the only person ever to get laid thanks to a pun.

…

It took nearly the whole night for Prompto’s energy to be spent, the usual pallor returning to his skin. Once Ignis had seen him in full ruddy liveliness, it was almost jarring to see the “normal” Prompto and all those little signs of vampirism.

Prompto gave Ignis a small and crooked smile, a hint of fang poking almost gently from behind a lip. He lay on his bed, inviting Ignis in while the man drew the curtains shut to a gradually lightening atmosphere.

“You were right.”

Ignis smirked. “I’m not surprised, but what about?”

“I’m hungry again.” Prompto turned over on his back, gazing up at the ceiling as Ignis lit a few candles. “I usually don’t do much, y’know. Can’t, around here. Most vamps have some form of backup. Without that, I’m better off sittin’ around playin’ _Candy Crash._ Usually, that means I can get away with feedin’ a little less.”

“Luckily, you’ve got your blood stores now,” Ignis mused, lightly whipping out his match. “There should be enough to keep you going for some time.”

“I want _your _blood, Ignis.”

When Ignis turned to face him again, Prompto crawled to his stomach, splaying himself on the bed slightly as he subconsciously sought to make himself closer.

“It’s like acid, man… I wanna feel your blood fill me up, boil inside of me. Only _you _can do that. I know I _can’t,_ we just _did, _but… I still want it _so _badly.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where doubt and skepticism reigned constantly from an upbringing as a royal’s retainer, Ignis wondered just how many people Prompto had tried this with, how many he had captivated. Surely it could not just have been him, even when their first meeting was by chance; surely this feeling was not magic, as they had so raucously decried over movies, but the elusive feeling another part of him had been seeking for what felt like ages.

The stars had aligned and given him what he wanted.

He _wanted_ Prompto.

Even if Prompto were to suck the life out of him, so be it. But he knew Prompto wouldn’t do that. Not the boy who hollers at TV specials and cooks without eating. Not the boy who starves himself instead of doing the thing one imagines vampires do when the high road gets steep.

And no more likely would Ignis bring Prompto harm, which the vampire _knew_; for the gentle touch of Ignis’s hands was a far cry from the examining grip of an aged scientist or the possessive grasp of “natural” vampires. No matter one’s first impression of Ignis, he always bore his truest of hearts when given reasons to put faith in someone.

In each other’s arms, they could forget the outside world for a while. Princes and plagues. Courts and coeurls. Knights and nightwalkers. Ignis found a second life in the world of love born when they touched, swam in its generous pools of serotonin when Prompto bit just gingerly, feeling a kind of love over Prompto’s gentle ministrations as the wounds would heal, and he would carefully bite again.

“How we doin’, Ignis?”

“Quite fine. Continue.”

Ignis could not imagine in his wildest dreams that this was how he would ever receive love. He accepted it; he _wildly _accepted it as he brushed his fingers gently against Prompto’s scalp, pressing the warming creature’s face closer to his body and felt Prompto take over his senses. And Prompto, feeling the beat of Ignis’s heart match his own—a sensation which he himself had not felt since he was a child—and feeling every twitch and moan as he lay atop him, could not help but indulge, indulge, _indulge_.

…

Prompto withdrew his fangs, lips covered in blood. After cleaning his own lips, he went to lick the wounds to heal them—he had left a few too many teeth marks on Ignis’s chest already—when he realized the larger man was no longer moving.

“Ignis?” Prompto touched his face; it sagged to the side. “Oh, shit! Ignis! Ignis!” He patted his face a few times, then pulled him more upright, feeling for the jugular vein with his forefinger. The pulse was present, yet light, as was his breath. Ignis’s unconscious body sagged against him, and Prompto lay him back down before he could fall over. Instead of his usual world-of-light tan, Ignis carried a paleness comparable to Prompto’s own. His face was oddly serene despite the situation. That did nothing to calm the vampire.

Rising from their bed, Prompto knit his fingers into his hair. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_, what am I gonna do?”

As when they met, he couldn’t very well take Ignis to the hospital by himself.

He wouldn’t dare try to search Moogle, _“What if someone has lost a lot of blood?”_

He couldn’t get Ignis to wake up. Prompto was many things, but a man of medicine he was not; Ignis could have been in a _very_ bad way.

Prompto’s only recourse was a phone that had been set to silent mode for forty-eight hours.

A dozen missed calls. Most from “Noct”; some from “Gladio”. He dialed “Noct” on Ignis’s phone, and it rang once before someone picked up.

“Ignis! Where the fuck are you? Are you okay?”

Prompto’s blood-filled stomach churned into a perfect knot.

“Iggy? Hello?? Are you there? Are you safe?”

“H, help!”

Belligerence. “Wh—who is this? Where’s Ignis?”

“Your friend, he’s hurt—I mean, he needs help!” Hands and body shaking, Prompto opened the maps app on Ignis’s phone. “P-Please come to these coordinates…”


	8. Un-Dead

The sound of an engine peeling up to the front yard was the first announcement that Ignis’s friends had arrived.

The next announcement was a heavy boot kicking in the front door.

A large, muscled man and a smaller man dressed in all-over black that matched his hair, came tumbling through as Prompto stumbled back and fell over, startled. The duo bore large, sharp weapons that seemed to glow with a faint, blue light—a light which, the nearer it came to Prompto, made his skin crawl and his newly-borrowed blood run hot.

Both men were intimidating in their own way: armed, obviously strong, dressed to kill. They had stopped just short of immediately lunging at Prompto, surveying their surroundings as if they had come to someplace _infamous _and _troubled_.

The bigger man’s face twisted into a sneer as he gripped his broadsword. “The famous ‘vampire house of Leide’, huh. Didn’t know it was such a shithole.”

The black-haired man brought the point of his own sword eye-level with Prompto. “What’s Ignis doing in a place like this?”

Prompto practically crab-walked backwards away from him. “I-I can explain! Please—”

That man was at Prompto’s side again in the blink of an eye and a flash of blue. “Save it!” The sword swung close enough to cut short a few strands of Prompto’s hair as Prompto dodged out of the way. “Gladio, find Iggy and see if there are any more of ‘em. I’ll take care of this one.”

Prompto propelled himself as far from the man as he could, slamming into his kitchen door frame as ‘Gladio’ ran off towards a hallway. “H-He’s in the back! There’s no need for—”

Gladio stopped just short of disappearing to toss the other man a look. “It’s a trap, Noct!”

“Just handle it!” ‘Noct’ shoots back.

“I’m not lying!” Prompto breathlessly got to his feet.

“I said, ‘save it’!” The man lunged at him again, and Prompto went full flight-mode as the man’s sword cleaved into the walkway.

Prompto found it best to weave his way through the cramped cooking space, where swinging swords would cause nothing but hindrance, but it hardly worked to slow down his opposition. He cut through the hanging spices that Ignis had left. He knocked over Ignis’s leftovers for the ride home. He bashed through the cabinet Prompto pulled open to obstruct him. Prompto lunged under the dining table, and his pursuer cut through its legs as well.

“Hey, man! That’s, like, the only thing in here that works properly!” Prompto admonished before dodging another near-fatal swipe at his head.

Exiting the kitchen, Prompto decided to lead this violent man down through the labyrinth of rooms Prompto never used; the annals of an abandoned house with old storage yet hardly a story to tell, its odd construction and unkempt state was sure to buy him enough time to get out. Even he wasn’t completely sure what lay in the direction he launched himself toward, but he would not stop; Noct’s chase was relentless. The sword crashed through a light fixture as Prompto dove into a side room, stumbling on an aged and dusty rug as he dashed for the door on the other side. He slammed into it and jostled it open, falling through to find himself in a more familiar corridor. He dashed for the empty “guest room” that waited around another corner, but somehow, his pursuer managed to trip him, and he went skidding into an old, unused desk.

Noct was descending, his pace unyielding.

Prompto’s life practically flashed before his eyes as they caught the glow of the blue sword approaching.

Lonely days spent studying a world of which he would never be a part.

Long days on the outskirts of a city where he wished he had the fortitude or the fortune to blend in with others.

Quiet days resigned to a desolate fate of his own making.

Ignis.

“I’m sorry!”

He coiled his arms around his head, curling his knees into his chest as he shrunk in one last effort to avoid harm. Noct’s sword stopped just short of plunging into the vampire, and piercing blue eyes gazed from beneath darkened locks to take in the sight before him.

_So this is how it all ends,_ Prompto thought. _What a way to go._

Noct kept his sword at position. Thinning his eyes, he began to scan his periphery for traps. There were none, none of any kind—not obvious ones, anyway, nor had there yet been any real obstacles. All it had been was a very large house. No one lay in wait for an ambush. No secret torture devices were employed. He thought he had seen some things of Ignis’s strewn here and there—in the kitchen in particular, which made sense, knowing Ignis—as if they had been or were about to be used. Prompto had not tried to fight back at all. Cowering, sniveling, Prompto peeked up at Noct from under his arms for a split second before curling back into a ball, shrinking away from the pointed sword.

Noct relaxed his stance.

Prompto peeked again as he heard a heavy set of footsteps fast approaching. He and Noct linked eyes in a moment that lingered, at the same time glaringly quiet yet blaringly loud. The sounds of their heaving breaths was dulled only by the creaking of boots against aged floorboards. He broke the moment by covering his eyes again, a faint hint of a whimper escaping lungs without breath.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

Gladio rushed into the room, stopping a short ways away from Noct. “Noct! What are y—”

“Hold, Gladio.” Noct raised one hand to halt Gladio, then raised the other hand, pointing his sword upward. It dispersed into a myriad of tiny, blue particles that then seemed to phase into air. “Find Ignis.”

“I found him! Now let’s—”

“Good. Then we’re leaving.” Noct began walking away from Prompto as Prompto loosened his limbs, instead bracing against the floor as he watched the black-haired man turn back.

Prompto couldn’t help but think that something was regal about Noct’s gait as he walked past Gladio.

“The vampire is still—”

“_Forget_ the vampire and come on already!” Noct ran out of the room, heading the direction from which he had heard Gladio come.

Gladio shot Prompto a stare as cold as ice, nearly piercing Prompto’s tender heart, before dispersing of his own weapon with a grunt and following after Noct.

Prompto lay sprawled on the floor, stunned and motionless, as he listened to the distant scramble of Ignis’s friends removing him from his bed, carrying him as urgently as they could out of the house, car doors slamming, engines revving, tires speeding away.

Just like that, he was alone again.

❦

Sometimes, it didn’t take much to settle back into old routines.

There was no need to wake at the crack of dusk when there was no one waiting for him. His shift didn’t begin for another three hours, anyway. The open arms of the internet, where no one knew for sure whether or not he was a _real _vampire, continued to welcome him, and the virtual world continued to turn.

Scrolling through his feeds fended off a renewed emptiness, same as when he had first fallen from society. Back then, nary a soul had stood by him, and he would accept rejection with a grace few possessed and a heart too cold to hurt. Perhaps, in the gaps between each post, between the meaningless memes and cat photos, he would find slivers of hope that there was still good to be sought in the world. Maybe, in a match with random players in King’s Knight, he would find a genuine connection, if only for two minutes.

Several hours into this, a knock came at the door.

Through the peephole, Prompto could make out a figure at least big enough to block out the lingering rays of sunset.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” A familiar voice. A voice that haunted him.

He opened the door slowly to view Noct’s frame, disheveled and scruffy. He had to doubt that the man had come alone. Though their incident had evaded news reporting of any sort, Prompto had come to know this man’s true identity in short order. It hardly was a secret to begin with, especially to the vampire; the aura of his presence could practically have been felt through the door.

“Where’s your guard?”

“It’s just me.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“Listen, I don’t want to hang around here long.”

“Good. It’s dangerous out here ‘round these hours. _Especially _alone.”

“If Ignis could do it, so can I.”

“Yeah, just _barely_. What do you want?”

“Ignis’s phone. We left it, and it’s got some _important _info on it.” Noctis held an open palm forward.

_Info about me,_ Prompto thought. “I bet. Do they even know you’re out here? In Daemon Country, LS? This would be a bad end to your story, Highness.”

“Doesn’t matter. The phone?”

“Wait here.”

Shutting the door, Prompto ran back to where he had placed Ignis’s phone. Sitting uselessly on the kitchen counter, it had long since died, its charging port differing greatly from Prompto’s own years-old cell. He furrowed his brow as he looked into its darkened screen, its surface glinting reflectionless back at him in low candlelight.

He opened the front door again, handing the phone to Noct. “I don’t consent to my info being published in any scientific journals, all right?”

“What? Even if we were going to, can’t you, like, use your weird magic to make us forget or something?”

“Magic? Oh, sure, every vampire has a secret magic gland. It’s right behind the pancreas. S’how we summon our own fancy blue swords.” Prompto stuck his tongue out.

“Right. Thanks.” Pocketing the phone, Noct glanced downward for a moment. “Listen, you…” Noct paused, a subtle look of pain appearing on his face. “You can’t see Ignis any more, all right? It’s all just…” He sighed.

“I understand,” Prompto said, a somber look darkening his pale countenance. “Is he okay, at least?”

Noct looked back up, the same pained look having grown on his face, brows arched. “Yeah. He’s fine, now.”

With a nod, Noctis turned to leave, heading back down the short steps of Prompto’s front porch. Prompto was not sure why he had expected to see Ignis’s car waiting there, but Noct’s own car was not far off in appearance with its dark, sleek, almost-foreign build.

That could have been the last time he would ever see either of them.

“Wait!” Prompto approached the top of the steps as Noctis pulled open the driver-side car door.

Noctis hesitated. “What?”

A determined look had changed Prompto’s entire mien. “What about what Ignis wants? I know who you are, but you can’t just—”

“Ignis wants the safety and security of the Crown and the kingdom,” Noct interrupted, the bright, violet haze of his irises flaring for just a moment. A tension remained in the curve of his eyebrows as he moved to enter the car. “That’s all he ever wanted.”

Without another word, Noctis Lucis Caelum pulled away, and with him went the last of sunset.

❦

Ignis hadn’t been awake for long when he demanded to know what happened.

“Where am I? What—what happened? Where’s Prompto?”

He lay in a hospital bed, myriad fluids running into his system by way of IV. The background beeping of an EKG came to him, instantly setting him on edge. No one had any particular fondness for hospitals, but he _loathed _them. His companions had been right by his side when he awoke.

“Adagium Memorial Hospital,” Noctis answered, hands folded.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Gladio answered, arms crossed. “It’s some kinda wonder you’re already awake after an event like that.”

“Lost too much… _Where is Prompto?_”

Noctis turned away toward a window where morning light licked at its corners. Gladio began pacing around the foot of Ignis’s bed, noting his impatience as the patient sat himself more upright.

“That vampire?” Gladio said with an almost undue amount of malice as he came to a halt. “We killed it.”

Noctis looked taken aback, eyes widening, as he turned toward Gladio. His eyes flashed over to Ignis, then back to Gladio, and he stayed his own tongue as the color drained from his face.

Ignis sunk more into his bed, feeling a deep sickness wash over him. “You...what?!”

“Drug it out into the sun to finish it off.”

Ignis almost leapt as his sinking feeling was accompanied by a sickening adrenaline kick. “You didn’t!”

“It was dangerous—a regional menace with a high bounty. The world’s better off now. Just glad we got to you before it could do you in.”

“You fool! Prompto would rather starve to death than bring harm to anybody!” Sitting forward again, Ignis gripped into the bed’s thin padding. “You absolute imbecile!”

Approaching Ignis more closely, Gladio’s face softened from anger to something resembling real compassion. “I know it must have used its magic on you to seduce you. You might even still be under its thrall… Could be days before it wears off.”

“What? No—”

He placed a hand gently on Ignis’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll be with you all the way through recovery.”

Ignis turned his head away from Gladio, shrugging his shoulder out of his grasp, and spoke with a bitter sting to his voice. “Leave me, both of you.”

Noctis’s face bore regret and shame. “Iggy—”

“I said, _leave me._” Words spoken through an impending flood of tears and anger. It was a kind of burning in Ignis’s chest with which he had been wholly unfamiliar, but now threatened to consume him.

Gladio took Noctis by the shoulder as he began to leave the room. “No need to try and push the issue.”

Noctis looked between the two of them hopelessly once more before they walked out of the door.

❦

It was supposed to be a joyous time in Noctis’s life, but he could not allow himself to be completely happy while his brother was in misery.

Noctis was soon to wed Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Princess of Tenebrae, once and for all uniting the royal lines of magic-bearers and bringing forth a new era of light. Noctis had hoped to erase borders and unite all people under their rule; this included those cast to the shadows and forgotten, both figuratively and literally. His brother, intelligent and ever-helpful as he was, had intended to help guide him. Ignis, you see, stopped at nothing to bring Noctis happiness in times of stress and clarity in times of need.

Such was not the case now.

When Ignis had recovered enough, he got right back to work, and _work _he did. His tasks were by procedure, his address rote and formal.

And he would bear Noctis no spare words.

Once Lunafreya arrived in Lucis for their rehearsal, they would review the wedding cakes Ignis had prepared.

“Ignis,” she said, “all of these cakes are quite lovely.”

“You are most gracious, Your Highness,” Ignis said with a pleasant smile.

“Please—we’re practically family! Just call me ‘Luna’.”

“Of course, Luna.”

“Iggy,” Noctis said, pointing to a tiered cake littered with candy pearls, “will people think that one is too _ostentatious_?”

“Each of these cakes are of equal merit, _Your Highness_,” Ignis answered with a pleasant voice and a straight face.

Noctis’s visual constitution weakened. “Iggy…”

“Select whichever one you both would prefer, _Your Highness_.”

Lunafreya glanced between the two with a confused look. Noctis could only sigh as Ignis hid his eyes behind a gleam on his glasses.

…

Prompto sorted through the inventory at his convenience shop. He had already done inventory recently, but hell—no one ever showed up there at night, and there was nothing better to do.

He ran across the rack of common reading glasses—little more than a magnifying glass in wearable form—and paused for a moment. He picked up a thin-framed black pair cautiously and set them upon his face, pushing them up to a comfortable position on the bridge of his nose, then glanced into the mirror.

_Better on Ignis._

Turning his head to the side, Prompto tucked his longer locks behind his ear and fluffed up the hair running along the edge of his forehead. Clearing his throat, he put on a fancy accent: “Prompto, is blood as good as coffee?” He snickered. “Might I drink some first, that you should indirectly experience the true wonder that is Ebony?”

He chortled to himself a moment more before noticing that a woman and her child were also in the store, staring at him from down the medicine aisle, mother’s hand on the small one’s shoulder.

He stopped laughing and cleared his throat again. He walked further into the store as casually as possible, though the store was not large enough for him to get out of their line of sight for a brief moment of panic. He instead positioned himself behind the front counter, as was expected of him, even at this late hour.

The small family approached with their medicine and snacks. Prompto rung them up simply:

“Ten eighty-two. Debit or credit?”

The woman handed him a twenty.

Prompto looked slightly disappointed. “Oh. Uh, do you have eighteen cents?”

“No.”

At the darkest part of night, Prompto found himself thinking about Ignis. As he forgot about the tediousness of the graveyard shift, so, too, did Ignis feel more and more like a distant memory. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Ignis’s scent to stay on him. He wanted to feel Ignis’s blood and body burn inside of him again, to draw that feeling out for as long as possible. He still wanted to be consumed by Ignis’s sunlight.

One could dream.

…

Leaning on an elbow, Ignis cast his stare into the wall as he shared a late meal with Noctis.

The young prince had come to him on this night with cold feet, and Ignis could hardly turn him away. Despite what he knew, Ignis himself was wracked with guilt; he had always been there for Noctis, mostly with his heart invested in his little brother’s wellbeing, yet even now he could not give the man his ear as they approached the most important day of his life. Little did he realize what guilt that man also carried; Noctis’s own eyes searched for their own focal point, lest he slip up and disturb this painful status quo.

“I don’t know,” he said, settling his eyes on the tip of the straw in Ignis’s drink. “What if she actually doesn’t like me? Can we really bring the world together like that?”

Ignis finally cast a look at Noct, one softer than he had been spared in days. “She will adore you, Noctis, if she doesn’t already, because of who you are. Who you _really_ are, deep down—that part of yourself you’ve never denied. You always do the right thing.”

“Ignis…” Noctis placed both his hands atop Ignis’s free hand. “I truly don’t deserve you.”

“I’m sure you know that’s not true. Everyone is asking a lot of you right now. As king, you are to make decisions, and I am there to help you move them forward. However heavy-handed they may be, I know your judgments are not without wisdom.”

Noctis pursed his lips, looking away.

…

Ignis was an expert at hiding his pain.

So long as he could spend his private nights staring at the texts he had exchanged with Prompto, he would have some means by which to grieve. Lying in bed, phone clutched in hand, he scrolled and scrolled past weeks’ worth of texts.

_“what’s a blood cake”_

_“It’s an Eastern dish involving blood, soy broth, sticky rice, and, sometimes, peanut flour.”_

_“omg!! wow!! can you make some for me? w/o all taht other stuff in it tho”_

He had choked back tears for days, but he could hold them back no longer.

Prompto was _gone_. Dead and ash.

It was all _his _fault.

_If I had just left him alone… If I had just kept my curiosity in check, just this one time… He was innocent, completely innocent…_

He smoothed out the tears rolling across his cheeks and nose, drying his hand on the bedsheet, before returning his finger to the screen. He tapped into the box in their thread, watching the digital keyboard pop up, and mildly damp fingers began to type.

_“I’m so sorry, Prompto.”_

He hit send, then set the phone down, pulling a second pillow up over his face as if to smother his agony.

A moment later, his phone vibrated.

Chucking the extra pillow aside, he picked up his phone and read the lockscreen. _“One new text message.”_ He unlocked. It was a message from Prompto.

“sorry for what???”

Ignis immediately hit the call button in Prompto’s contact screen. It picked up after one tone.

“Prompto!”

“Ye—”

“Prompto, you’re all right?”

“Uh, yeah. I feel like I should be asking you that, though…” Prompto’s voice was a confusing mix of taken aback and deflated. “You feelin’ better?”

Ignis sat up against the headboard, running his free hand through tossed hair. “They—I thought—you’re alive?”

“Uh, yeah, dude. I’m not the one who got the blood drained out of him. Sorry about that, by the way… Guess we were havin’ too much fun, heh.”

Ignis was, at once, supremely relieved and direly confused; Prompto’s tone of voice was not entirely as expected, and strange, busy noises accompanied it. “Are you sure you’re okay? I… What’s that sound?”

Prompto was standing over his stove, attempting to heat some of his stores of blood on the stove. “I’m just heatin’ some stuff up over here.” He sighed, stirring the pot that threatened to boil away his dinner as he turned the heat down. “Don’t you have to serve your prince or whatever?”

“Prompto… Did Noctis speak with you?”

“Mm. Told me you were on his side.”

“Ah. They told me you were dead. That they’d _killed _you.”

“Oh.” Prompto paused for a few heartbeats. “Ooohhh. Wow, that actually makes a lot of sense. Yeah, really smart move on their part, huh? Guess they never really thought you’d try to contact me after that. But you’re Ignis Scientia, so they should’ve already known not to underestimate ya.” He chuckled.

“It’s so good to hear your voice again. I…” Ignis trailed off before a sob could interrupt his words.

Prompto stepped away from his kitchen, sitting on the couch where they always used to sit. He curled an arm around his legs, sighing again. “Iggy, I’m sorry you were worried about me. Maybe I should have tried to call you. I was just scared.”

“Prompto, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I want so badly to see you again, but I do defend the Crown, not defy it.”

“He spared my life, so he must not hate me that much. Or he must really care about you.”

“Why don’t we keep contacting each other this way?”

“Sure it’s safe?”

“I can be quite cautious when it comes to these things. As long as you and I can share some time together, as we are right this moment.”

“I really missed you, Iggy.”

Ignis held his phone close to his face and his sheets close to his chest, unable to mask a sob that escaped with a small gasp of breath. “I missed you, too.”

❦

That Ignis’s mood had improved significantly did not escape Noctis’s notice the next time they were out together. Part of his mind told him that perhaps flowers lightened the mood—Ignis had been fond of lavender, in particular, and sylleblossoms were both calming and a shoe-in for the royal bouquet. Yet it had to be something more. After all, in life, Ignis had rarely been so upset as to avoid eye contact for days straight, and moods like that didn’t just evaporate into thin air overnight.

Noctis pulled him aside near the gardenias and spoke carefully. “Iggy, you seem like you’re in a better mood today.”

“Yes, well, your wedding draws ever nearer, and with it comes a great levity. I, too, should revel in your impending happiness.”

The prince rubbed the back of his head. How Ignis could be so purple _so _casually would never cease to astound him. “Ignis… I hurt you in ways I can’t even apologize for.”

“No need for apologies, Noct,” Ignis said with a simple smile. “You simply had done what you thought you must. We all must move on in life at some point.” He lowered his nose to a hanging gardenia, breathing in its simple scent as it brought it closer with a gentle hand. “Would you consider these to offset the sylleblossoms?”

Watching Ignis basking in flowers, Noctis blinked.


	9. Lost at Midnight

It was easy for them to slip into their new routine. Ignis was never asleep at twelve, anyway, so calling Prompto in the middle of his “day” to listen to him babble lovingly ‘til sleep finally came was much welcome. Ignis continued to learn a lot from Prompto, even from idle chatter. It made him smile. Prompto would watch his love drift off into slumber over video chat with contentment, knowing that he helped to soothe the many mental aches and anxieties that often kept his love awake past late hours.

Of course, they missed the physicality of their relationship.

Prompto still wanted to burn.

Ignis wanted to feel the pricks of Prompto’s chilled teeth and skin, like ice melting in springtime.

Neither of them shied away from this topic. Ignis would address it directly:

“Expect a package at your door on Tuesday at exactly seven-thirty in the evening.”

Prompto wasn’t sure how he did it, but, somehow, Ignis managed to have a parcel delivered right to Prompto securely and without incident. When he heard the box drop at seven-thirty, he waited a bit, opened the door, and dragged it inside before the last vestiges of twilight could linger on him. There was no one to be seen, not even an engine to be heard.

Package in hand, Prompto called Ignis up to let him know of the successful transaction. “Dude, how’d you even work this out? That was some ninja-tier stuff.”

“I have an _in _with the Hunters,” Ignis noted. “You might have noticed that their activity has decreased in the area of late. I was finally able to coordinate something with the head Hunter.”

“Wait, there’s a _headhunter?_ That’s terrifying, dude!”

“No—I mean—it’s the man in charge, Dave. I offered him definitive proof that the vampire in the area was no threat and offered a generous stipend for the organization so long as they abide by my advice.”

“Huh… That’s pretty cool. Thanks, man.”

“I take it you haven’t opened it yet?”

“Oh!” Prompto grabbed his scissors to carefully cut apart the tape keeping the discreet package closed. Its contents were wrapped tightly in bubble wrap, in addition to having been buried in packing peanuts. “Geez, what’d you send me, a Fabergé egg?”

Ignis gleefully listened to the rustling on the other end, excitement building in his heart. “It never hurts to be over-careful.”

The rustling stopped after a moment more of cutting and tearing. “Duuude.” Prompto felt something firm and lengthy wrapped up in the blanket he pulled from the bubble packaging. “Is this what I think it is?”

“A heated blanket?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talkin’ about, ya dingus.” Prompto stuck out his tongue, continuing to unwrap the blanket. “It _is _cool, though. Thank you!” He more hastily unwrapped the blanket to reveal its bulging contents: a sizeable vibrator.

Ignis was leaning on his hands. “Do you like it?”

“I can see why you, like, quadruple-wrapped this, dude!” Prompto said, the beginnings of laughter bubbling up in his throat. “Holy shit, this packaging isn’t discreet at _all_.” Bright purple bubble packaging within a firm rectangle of cardboard revealed the device’s shape and design: it was pink, striped, and appeared to specialize in_ g-spot_ _stimulation_. “Wait, thirty-two modes? Warming system? And it even looks to be about your size. You sure are detail-oriented, Iggy!”

“What can I say? You deserve it.”

Prompto found a note stuck to the bottom of the box, its other end still taped to the blanket. Unattaching it, he read its three simple words: _“Think of me.”_

And he burst out laughing.

“Prompto?”

“Iggy, this is seriously the best thing ever.” Prompto undid the box’s sealing tape using his fangs and quite handily released the precious vibrator from its sales prison. Wiping a tear away from his eye as he hugged it into his chest gently, he grinned into his phone’s camera. “I bet you can’t wait to fuck me with this, huh? I can see it in your eyes: you’re achin’ for it!”

Ignis angled his camera down to his nether region, where a generous bulge had already formed. “Oh, you read me so well.”

…

Ignis’s gift was more than enough to aid Prompto in the simulation that Ignis was still there with him.

Watching Prompto prepare himself for it was almost too much for Ignis to begin with.

“Prompto… You’re cruel to make a man wait for so long.”

“What, don’t you like this?” Prompto grinned, angling his inserted fingers more toward the phone camera, freckled rear full on display. “Tell me how deep I should go.”

“I’ve got to be quite thorough,” Ignis answered, resisting the urge to begin touching himself already.

“You got it, Ig—oop!” Prompto accidentally knocked over the phone with his foot, darkening the screen for his lover. “This angle is hard, y’know. Maybe I should just leave it like this for now, anyway, before you blow it. I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet!”

“Well, you’ll have to excuse me. It has been a bit, you know.”

“Mm-hmm.” Picking the phone back up, Prompto now had the toy in his hand. With a cheeky smirk, he proceeded to abruptly pop the tip of it between his lips, making a pleased noise as he gave it a gentle suck.

A gasp slipped out of Ignis effortlessly.

Prompto flashed a row of pearly whites. “Heh, I’ve been practicing, Iggy. Glad I have a more accurate model now. I know you don’t quite like the idea of these pointy whites goin’ down on you, but at the same time, I _know _you love the _danger._” He slipped it back into his mouth, this time gliding it in and out a few inches before popping it back out.

“Prompto…” Desperation spread in Ignis’s voice. “Please, hurry and let me fuck you.”

“Okay, just let me read the instructions first.”

Dead silence for a moment. “You… You haven’t…”

A short laugh erupted from the vampire. “Gotcha! Just funnin’.” He held the vibrator up to his phone’s camera. “There’s only, like, two buttons.” Setting it down, he started to rummage through his assortment of things he had laid out on the bed on top of his nice, new plaid-patterned heated blanket. “D’ya want me to use the grape or vanilla lube?”

“I… Does it matter?”

“Uh, it’s gonna matter when you clean me up, dude.”

Prompto watched as Ignis’s face somehow turned redder on-screen.

“G-grape.”

“Great!” Prompto set up his phone again, lying on his side with his ass and enough of his face showing. “Good… Lessee… Oh, this thing heats up _fast_. It really is just like you, Ignis.”

Ignis had already undone his pants; Prompto could hear his soft moans as he prepared to handle his length.

“Sorry I couldn’t send ya something, like, cold,” Prompto said, idly toying at his hole with the vibe.

“Don’t worry; I’m taken care of on my end.”

“That’s my resourceful Ignis.”

Prompto switched light vibration on and plunged it inside with a deep gasp; the feeling hit _much_ harder than expected, even without his own girth having been activated by a good Ignis-feed. This device certainly was able to scratch an itch of his that he previously had no idea needed satisfying.

Meanwhile, Ignis had his own apparatus, a less-than-lukewarm cooling cup, that he thrust himself into. He used force such that Prompto could hear when he moved so their motions could sync.

“Go fast, Iggy!” Prompto breathed, positioning himself so that Ignis could see his generous gift’s tug and push. “Is that all you got?!”

“At this rate,” Ignis said between breaths, “you’re going to be dust when I’m finished with you.”

“That’s what I wanna hear! _Ah!_” Prompto bit his lip, feeling a shiver as his body already began to come. The lack of emission meant that he could extend this pleasure as long as his energy could hold up; it was time to see if Ignis could keep the pace. “K-keep going!” His lips quivered as he tightened around an unrelenting vibrator. He turned over onto his arms and knees, pausing only for a moment before ramming himself so hard his back arched.

Ignis did as told, hips rocking into his hands as he held his device steady. “Slap your arse, please.”

Prompto obliged, adding in a little grasp that put his balls on full display. “Ignis… Your dick is so—ah...”

In truth, Ignis already wanted to burst just hearing the noises coming out of Prompto, but he had to draw it out. His time, this time, that he had with Prompto was precious; he wanted badly for Prompto to feel him, to fill him for hours on end, and he would stop at nothing to find the vampire’s fullest, deepest pleasure.

“P-Prompto…” Ignis’s body and voice shuddered as he held himself back. “I’m going as hard as I can.”

He was rewarded with Prompto’s cries as the vampire rammed himself at full force. The blond’s stash of blood didn’t get the heat flowing in him quite like Ignis’s, but the heat of the devices, the sound of Ignis’s voice, the tip of that pleasure wand driving deep into his sweet spot—all of this coalesced into a more intense pulsing that sent his body shivering and turned his legs to jelly.

Yet, he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop until Ignis was through.

And Ignis was too stubborn to relent, to stubborn to let himself go. He wanted to do what he would do if Prompto were there with him in person: reduce him to a dribbling mess.

So he did.

Ignis worked at him until Prompto thought he would go numb. Ignis wouldn’t see the fine details of Prompto’s glow, his body reddening slightly, his heart beginning to sync. He would hear his beloved vampire collapse into his keening gasps as he removed his cup and released his pleasure with sharp gasps, the other all the while practically drooling as he let his tongue loll out and face hit the pillow.

After a few breaths and silence, Prompto turned himself over, grabbing the phone. He saw what a mess Ignis had made and propped himself up. “Dude, did you pull out?”

“Yes, apologies. Old habit. I think I’d enjoy painting you for once.”

Prompto was already as flushed as he could be, but he still managed to redden a bit more. “I think you’d enjoy _this sweet ass _a little more.”

“Who’s to say the fun has to end here?”

Prompto grinned devilishly. “_My man._”

…

Ignis had to be more careful if he wanted to keep up the ruse. He couldn’t be staring down at a screen _or_ staring blankly off into space. It was easy now, however, to carry himself with confidence, knowing that somewhere out there, his Prompto waited for him. Yet still, as he gave his meetings and his tasks his full attention, in the very back of his mind always stood the question: when would they be able to meet again?

Ignis’s idle puzzling was picked up easily by the astute. Talcott, a young family friend of the Amicitias currently under Ignis’s tutelage, caught Ignis in his musings.

Shadowing Ignis, he followed the man out of their meeting to find him idly humming.

“Ignis, I still have some questions,” the youth said, keeping close.

“Oh, Talcott,” said Ignis, caught off-guard. “I didn’t realize you were still there.”

Talcott squinted up at Ignis, the discerning boy intent on sniffing out exactly what was _off_ about him as he pulled him aside. “We have yet to broach several topics at these meetings, vampires being one of them. I am very much interested in hearing more about them.”

Ignis’s discomfort may have been invisible to most, but Talcott could see the quivering in his Adam’s apple. Had he stricken some kind of nerve?

“Shouldn’t we rather be talking about the matters at hand? The effects will trickle down even to you, you know.”

“I _know_, but we have to make sure not to allow any subject of _interest _to be shelved and forgotten.”

“Ah, but what leads you to believe I have any particular experience in that department?”

“Simply put, I heard it from Gladiolus.”

Ignis swallowed. “Of course.”

Talcott’s eyes widened a bit, and he started getting a little more excited. “Basically, I wanna know everything about them!”

“Now isn’t really the time for—”

“They must be cool, right? That’s why you’ve been in a better mood, huh?”

Ignis paused. “Exactly _what _have you heard from Gladio?”

“That you were with a vampire! And obviously they didn’t kill you, which means they must like you!” Talcott smiled, gripping his fists eagerly.

Ignis tried not to blush. “Well, I don’t know about all that—”

“Please, just tell me—are they actually nice? How do they _really _look? Are their fangs super long?”

“Talcott—”

“This is for research! I’ve determined that there must be more vampires out and about in society than previously thought. I just want to know more! And right now, you’re my main lead!”

“Time and place, Talcott,” Ignis said sternly. “And don’t tell Gladio that we’re speaking of them.”

“Oh, I won’t—he doesn’t seem to like ‘em very much.” Talcott rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s why I figured I better ask you instead.”

“I’ll tell you of my experiences at a later date. Right now it’s a rather…sensitive subject.”

“Understood!”

❦

“Ignis, why’d they tell ya I was dead?”

Ignis lay in bed after a long day, arms wrapped around previously-unused pillows as he listened to Prompto’s voice.

“Didn’t it make sense to you?”

“Well, in a _general _way, I thought so, but…in the city, at least, people didn’t seem to _hate _the idea of vamps so much.” On his end, Prompto rolled onto his back, staring up at a dark ceiling, imagining lights that danced in an infinitely-lit city. “Out here in the sticks, everyone’s still got their superstitions and whatever, but in the city people are almost willing to try everything, be with anyone. Your friends seem to have more…personal reasons.”

Ignis bit his lip a moment before responding. “Our relationship would cause problems for the Crown, no question. Though we may be a part of the City of Light, and in spite of our famous symbology, the union of light and dark is yet frowned upon. Even now, there are a loud few who oppose the union of Lucis and Tenebrae, the Kingdom of Darkness.”

“Huh? Wait, union?”

“Er, yes. There’s been a _lot _going on on our end. More than that, however—because I do think people would overcome their prejudices—there is something more personal, as you said.” Ignis paused, then sighed deeply. “Gladio has a deeper hatred of vampires.”

In the vampire’s mind, images flashed of a large, mulleted man ready to cleave Prompto in two. He shuddered. “Why? What happened?”

“Gladiolus had a little sister, Iris. Adorable little thing—seemed to really love the prince and would follow him around, even when her brother was close by. One night, long ago—she must have been four or five—she was taken by vampires just south of Insomnia and never seen or heard from again.”

Prompto slumped into his pillows. “That… I see.”

“He believes that they ‘ate’ her. With the death of his mother and the kidnapping of his sister just a few years later, the pain of loss has been great within him. Were it not for His Highness, he surely would have killed you that day. He has had to show a tremendous amount of self-restraint in not returning to you.”

Ignis heard a sigh come through.

“I understand,” Prompto breathed. “Yeah. I get it, now.”

Ignis turned over. “It still isn’t fair to you.”

“We’ll find a way. We’ve…we’ve got to. I miss you so much.”

“As do I.”

“Seriously, man, this vibrator might not hold up much longer.”

Ignis’s somber face automatically broke into a grin. “Prompto…”

❦

There was only one coven out in Prompto’s neck of the woods.

This was a coven open to all creatures of the night: vampires, lycans, all manner of creepers and crawlers across the different Lucian clans, and even, on occasion, humans. It was neutral ground, a place where truces were made and all were treated as equal while under its care. As it had been in the city, Prompto did not trust many of his own kind—if they could really even be considered such, with his unique condition among them, as much as he wanted to regard himself the same—but he would have to get over his fears and mistrust in order to once again visit one of his only friends.

Aranea wasn’t the head of this coven, but she was respected like one. Not only was she more caring than her cold exterior suggested, she also possessed a skill unlike any man or creature who had ever breached its walls.

Prompto froze under the stares of the coven’s current denizens as he entered its tenebrous, moody atmosphere. Many regarded him with apathy, but the other vampires there—many of them pale, few as pale as he—all sneered and turned and kept their eyes on him as he continued to move, eyes that made his skin crawl and his heart want to turn back.

Just before he lost all heart, he heard a warm and familiar voice.

“Argentum, something terrible must have happened for you to actually show your face here,” said a silver-haired woman, smiling as her hand beckoned him forth.

Prompto approached with a weak smile. “Hey, Aranea.”

Aranea stood behind the bar, cleaning the cups of a familiar red substance. She watched the tired-looking blond as he sat himself down in front of her. “Find the place okay? I know folks have been acting up lately.”

“Not too much trouble tonight, thank goodness,” Prompto said, lying down on his arms. “I think they still remember that _blast _of a sitch from a few months ago.”

“That was you?”

“Ya didn’t know already?”

“I guess people were trying to leave out some details. My, but you’ve grown.” Aranea resisted the urge to ruffle the young vampire’s hair, knowing that he would hate it.

“In the metaphorical sense?” Prompto looked up at her with a more positive grin. “I'm just lucky ya decided to stick it out in this neck of the woods. You still in business?”

A serious look appeared on her face. “Whose ass do I have to kick?”

“No kickin’ asses this time.” Prompto sat up, a soft look entering his eyes. “I need your other skills. Y’know, of the life-saving variety. Still remember when ya found me?”

…

They had first met when Prompto was at his lowest.

Some decades back, a long and great drought had seized the whole of typically-temperate Lucis. Prompto, for the first time attempting to live off the dry farmlands of Leide, found himself desperate for blood within days of moving there. Aside from having to protect the animals in the heat of daytime, the farmers had caught wind of vampires in the area and took extra measures to keep their livestock safe.

They could not hide the animals from Prompto. As he became more desperate, so, too, did his sense for blood become keener. Desperation eventually drove him to break into one such farmer’s barn and make for whatever awaited him inside.

A rusted lock broke apart as Prompto forced open half of the barn door. Creaking it the rest of the way open, carefully, gently, he noticed both a small group of sickly-looking donkeys and a strange, growing light at the same time.

_A light? It’s the dead of night…_

Its flickering soon revealed the source: a small fire had started where the door had opened all the way. A lit lamp had been left there and toppled over by his intrusion.

“Oh no!” Prompto tried not to yell, running behind the donkeys. “Alright, everyone out! Git!”

No matter how much he pulled and shoved, the donkeys stubbornly resisted, seeming not to fear _him _or _fire _or _anything _within the barn.

And still, the fire spread, the dry bales of hay wicking up every flame like water and spreading across the ground, slowly making its way up the barn sides.

“Hey! Let’s move it! Do you _wanna_ die?!”

In trying to tug one of the few donkeys, it kicked at him, knocking him over with the soft _crunch_ of ribs; it kicked again, kicking the door closed.

“Augh…” Prompto pulled himself toward the door, dragging himself across increasingly warming ground, but something slid and clanked and clicked on the other side. Pulling himself up on its cross-beams, he began to shake it, first gently, then violently. “What? No! No no no no shit shit shit! This is so bad… Let me out! I—let me out!”

Now the donkeys began to fret as the fire rose to a blaze and smoke started clogging the air. Even vampires needed clean air to breathe, and the smoke singed his nostrils and choked his airways even as he tried to stay low enough to avoid it.

But there was no avoiding flame. There was no other way out. For such a shoddy, old barn, there were no boards loose enough to burst through, no loose patches of roof. These withered creatures, now crazed by the blaze, even in their struggle to stay alive would not be able to burst out. Not before becoming screaming victims of the fire.

Prompto would fall unconscious before ever knowing his fate.

But he _would_ know it.

For he woke to darkness, without feeling, without hearing, without sight. All he could feel was the pressure of something atop him. All he could sense was blood: blood _everywhere._

The pressure disappeared suddenly after some period of time. There was more blood around him—fresh, moving, not like whatever he had been surrounded by this whole time. He felt the fresh blood getting closer to him, could practically smell it, and his body acted without his full knowing. It grabbed the blood. It tasted the blood. The blood struggled to get away futility and became his.

There was nothing for a long time after that. His body grew desperate again, but it could not move. It could not heal. It could not die.

It was said later that Aranea, whose path had almost run parallel and, at times, intersected with Prompto’s own, came to investigate a lone vampire that had become “like that of a daemon” somewhere in the southeastern farmlands. Without much hindrance, she traced the hearsay, the reports, the _smell_, to a small farm’s burnt wreckage in what would have been the shade of a great old oak by day.

A being of blood and char clung to the bones of its last meal, writhing slightly in the vestiges of rising sun. This was it: where the Vampire of Three Valleys legend had officially begun.

She brought it to the coven, fed it a steady supply of blood. Eventually its hearing came back, yet consciousness faded in and out; the healing process would take _all _of the body’s energy.

Muscle, skin and hair would return. Sinews became as good as new. She kept him warm. She continued to feed him.

One day, finally, his eyes opened.

That was the day he and Aranea became true friends.

In just one person, he had found a family.

…

“How could I ever forget?” Aranea leaned her elbows on the countertop, meeting Prompto eye-to-eye. “You were in the worst shape I’ve ever seen. Practically had to scrape you up.”

Prompto chuckled. “Just glad you went that far for me.” He found comfort in her eyes. The trauma of the memory had long become a faint buzzing in his vast sea of anxiety. “Aranea, would you say we’re like family?”

Aranea shrugged a little. “Kind of. Like second cousins who call each other every year on Thanksgiving.” She snickered to herself.

Prompto matched her grin. “Well, along the lines of family, I’ve got a job for you.”


	10. Friends

“I’ll have you yet,” Ignis warned Gladio, dropping his fighting stance.

“Yeah, in ten years, maybe,” Gladio spoke with a grin, relaxing as well.

The two took a break from sparring, a calmness settling in this wing of Amicitia Manor. Jared, the Amicitia butler, offered them waters before leaving them to continue as they were.

“One moment,” Ignis said, departing to find the restroom.

“Go ahead,” Gladio said; “you’re gonna need an empty bladder for the next round.”

Smirking as Ignis left, Gladio started resetting the sparring room, getting things back in order. He noticed that Ignis has left his phone behind when it nearly buzzed its way off of one of the weapon racks. It was getting a _lot_ of buzzing notifications, enough to nearly take it over the edge. Gladio caught the phone before its short trip took it smack into hardwood flooring, and it continued to buzz in his hand unpredictably.

Typically, he dared not mess with Ignis’s possessions, but he’d had some sneaking suspicions about Ignis lately. Ignis had, after all, been avoiding him completely up until just a few days ago, and while he would like to believe that Ignis finally moved on like the strong, adult man that he is, the change had happened too quickly. He would not be able to unlock Ignis’s phone, nor see the contents of his notifications, but he would be able to see the _source_ as soon as he lit up the screen.

He didn’t have much time. Ignis was a notorious speed-peer. _Better check now._

“New message from Prompto.”

“New message from Prompto.”

“New message from Prompto.”

“New message from Prompto.”

Eyes thinning, Gladio grit his teeth, his grip on the phone tightening.

…

Perhaps there was some explanation. _Perhaps_ he could give his confidant some shadow of a doubt. But the knowledge of what little he had seen gnawed at Gladiolus. He had to know for sure.

He had to know whether or not Ignis was a _traitor._

Thus, he waited patiently, quietly, until the day when Ignis finally slipped up. Ignis, letting his guard down among one of the men he considered “brother”, eventually set his phone down in the sparring room completely unlocked, near Gladio, and left for a momentary break.

And Gladio took it. And he read _everything._ And his stomach welled up with disgust.

The _fraternizing_. The _photos_. Perhaps Ignis was still under its thrall—yet he had, ostensibly, been acting normal. That he would _willingly_ give himself over to this _beast_ was beyond all belief, and yet, all the proof was right there.

After a moment more, so was Ignis.

“Gladio.”

Locking eyes with Ignis, unflinching, Gladiolus held up the phone, displaying all of the messages. “What the _hell _is this?”

“_This_ looks like an invasion of my privacy.” Stifling down a smoldering rage, Ignis approached Gladio, his pace stern. “Return it at once and speak no more of it.”

Gladio bore his teeth, not unlike a lion. “Are you _trying_ to betray the throne?”

Ignis stood stone-like before Gladio. “Not any more than you would be protecting it by slaying one defenseless vampire!”

Their exchange had quickly become a shouting match that Gladio was trying to win. “The only good vampire is a dead vampire!”

“_Gladio!_”

The larger man crossed his arms, a feeling of resentment plain on his face. “I can’t believe you’d do something like this behind our backs! Not just to your King, but me, too?”

Ignis pointed with accusation. “Oh? And who’s the one who lied straight to my face?”

Gladio uncrossed his arms to spread them. “I was trying to protect you!”

“I am no helpless waif, and I’ve not been in any danger!”

Gladio moved his face to just an inch away from Ignis’s. “Suppose next you’ll brush off Noct’s wedding rehearsal just to go lie with that fiend!”

Ignis took a step back, fists clenched. “Don’t you put words in my mouth!”

Gladio stepped forward. “Maybe you’d like to disappear for another week or so, just skip the whole wedding? Y’know, without telling anyone?”

Ignis winced, taking another step back.

“Some ‘Best Man’ you are!” Gladio yelled, continuing his one-foot pursuit. “Wait ‘til Noct finds out you’re a saboteur!”

Ignis nearly growled. “Is that what this is all about? Gladiolus, being _in love_ does not make me a saboteur!”

“_Love?_” Gladio spat. “Oh, hell no! That’s it—” Gladio tossed Ignis’s phone to the floor. “I’m gonna go do what I shoulda done in the first place and put an _end _to all this!” He charged forward, fists ready.

“Gladiolus!” Ignis took up his fighting stance in an instant, completely blocking the door.

The adrenaline from their last session had barely had enough time to fade; it kicked back into full force as Gladio attempted to steamroll Ignis, only to be shoved back by Ignis’s secure footing and powerful grip.

“There is—no need—to make rash decisions, Gladiolus,” Ignis said through gritted teeth, using his might to hold Gladio back. “We can—talk about this.”

“You already know what I’m gonna say,” Gladio said, using a burst of stamina to shove Ignis to the side.

“Ugh!” Ignis tumbled to the ground as Gladio made his escape. “Gladiolus!”

Gladio was already putting on his biker gear, materializing it from blue aether as he ran out of the front door of his home and to his motorcycle. Ignis limped after him, trying not to stumble down the steps of the patio as the tattooed man revved up his engine.

“Never leave a job unfinished, Iggy,” he said, flipping down the shades of his helmet. “You’re gonna be free—I guarantee it.” The rubber of the tired peeled into the concrete driveway and burned a path into the road as he sped off, Ignis watching with a fiert determination.

Ignis limp-rushed back inside, grabbing his phone.

“I’m sorry, Noct, but we have to tail Gladio, _now_.”

❦

By the time Noctis and Ignis were able to convene, Gladiolus was already miles ahead of them.

Unlike most, Gladio had an ire towards vampires that could sustain his temper for the hours of a long bike ride out of Insomnia and through Liede. The usual serenity of gliding through the flatlands on his trusty steed had been overwritten by the damage done to his own heart.

But it was okay. As the sun set, he knew that by sunrise, this specific problem would no longer exist. Ignis would, once again, be _free_.

Flatlands turned into grasslands. Stone outcroppings were replaced with forests. And, within a shaded valley, he finally spotted the _accursed_ house where lay the source of all the troubles Ignis had been having these past few months.

As before, Gladio wasted no time in approaching. He had to be careful, however: _anything _could be on the other side of that door. Ignis could have sent a warning; Prompto’s whole _secret fleet of underworld ghouls_ could be lying in wait, prepared this time to take down the Shield of the King.

So he parked his loud vehicle a distance away and approached the house slowly, softly, _quietly._ He avoided the loose floorboards as much as he could as he made his way onto the patio, then up to the door. It had been repaired relatively well, though the signs of his last break-in were still apparent to an observant eye. Removing his helmet, which dissipated into light, he placed his ear against the door carefully.

He heard three voices. All of them seemed to be chatting, but he couldn’t make out the details; mostly tone. For all he knew, it could be their plan of attack, a plan of certain demise for the muscular man.

_“...found it…”_

_“...not that weak…”_

_“...thankful...in time…”_

Gladio clenched a fist. _Better not give them another moment._

“Hyah!” His boot met the door, again caving it in with ease. The sword had already appeared in his hands, ready to destroy the next thing he faced, when his eyes fell upon a not-unfamiliar sight.

A young woman dove before him, fiery auburn eyes flitting wide open as she put herself between him and Prompto. As time slowed, Gladio felt his arms recoiling, pulling back on the weapon before he could dispose of it magically. Before he could mistakenly destroy that which he loved.

Before..._her._

The woman stared up with burning eyes that matched his own. They were the same eyes that his mother had possessed.

“Gladdy.”

In less than a second, Gladio’s rage had deflated, replaced by confusion, then replaced by realization. His breaths growing heavier, eyes growing softer, his voice cracked even before he could form a simple word. “I-Iris?”

Iris laughed as her brother pulled her into his embrace, both of them squealing in joy. Prompto and Aranea looked on in stunned silence, a subtle awe growing in both of them. The man had looked like he would fly into a rampage just moments earlier, and now this girl had her arms wrapped around him like he were nothing more than a huge, precious teddy bear. He was barely holding back tears of utter joy.

“Took you long enough!” Iris said, relaxing to fully view Gladio’s face.

“I thought you were lost forever…” Gladio’s attempts to damn a new flood of tears failed as a set rolled down from each cheek.

“Didja forget? I’m an Amicitia, too!” She reached up to dry one of his cheeks with a thumb.

Gladio placed gentle fingers along her jawline, smiling. “Damn right. And look atcha. You’ve gotten so big…”

“So have you!” Iris exclaimed.

Gladio chuckled. “You ain’t even trying to catch up?”

“I’ve got _other _strengths.” Iris playfully thwapped Gladio’s chest, and both of them erupted into laughter.

She was every bit as cheeky as he’d imagined she would be. Such a vivid spark of vitality was unmistakable. Every smile, every laugh, filled in the gaps of anguish formed in years’ worth of loneliness. All of it turned around in an instant.

Gladio faced Prompto, maintaining his smile as he wiped the corner of his eye. The expression almost unnerved Prompto, as if it were some sort of trick. “Where… How? How’d you do this?” he asked, looking between the vampire duo.

“Ask this one here,” Prompto said, throwing an arm around Aranea’s shoulders. “She’s the ‘finder’, and a damn good one.” Leaning closer to her ear, he whispered, “Seriously, ‘Nea, you really saved my ass. Dude was like _two seconds_ from murdering me to smithereens.”

“I won’t go into the boring details,” Aranea said, “but humans kidnapped by vampires are shockingly traceable—if you’re a well-connected vampire yourself, at least.”

Prompto nodded. “I don’t got a lotta friends, but the ones I _do_ have are _really good_ at what they do.”

“And, well…” As soon as Aranea spoke again, Gladio noticed that which the others had long noted.

The pale skin.

The fanged smile.

“Iris… You’re a vampire, huh.”

Nodding, Iris took Gladio’s hands into her own. “It ain’t too bad. I don’t have to spend money on food, and everything fun happens at night, anyway.” She chuckled, watching the large man turn slightly red. “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Big Bro!”

“I ain’t no prude!” Gladio protested.

“Oh, really? What are you, then?”

“Just...really happy to see you.” He pulled her into another hug; she buried her head against his shoulder. “How did you even survive?”

“I really lucked out.” She smiled up at him as the memory of her fortunes returned. “Ran into some real ethical folks who saved me, and we sort of laid low, like Prompto here. If it weren’t for those guys, I’d be nothing but dust.”

“Oh!” Prompto jumped in, intrigued. “Did they abide by ‘the code’?”

Turning toward him, Iris smiled. “Yep. No children. No pregnant women. Consent is ideal. There are a few out there, like you, who don’t live to take advantage of the vulnerable. They saved me from _permadeath_…” She glanced back at Gladio, whose gaze was still fixed on her in awe. “All in all, it ain’t so bad. A little cold, sure, but at least there’s perks! I could make you a vampire, too, if you want.”

“Wha—No way! Absolutely not!” Gladio almost launched himself across the room while Iris laughed. “Vamps may not be all bad, but that don’t mean I wanna spend the rest of my life in the dark! Er, no offense…”

“None taken, ya big lug.” She playfully thwacked him again.

Gladio faced Prompto, beginning to approach him easily, reading Prompto’s still-uneasy expression. “S’pose I owe ya an apology for, y’know, tryin’ to obliterate you earlier.”

“Oh, no need, I completely understa—” Prompto couldn’t finish his sentence before Gladio pulled him into a full bear hug, arms locked around Prompto’s tiny frame. “Gah!”

“C’mere, you,” Gladio said as he gave Prompto a good squeeze.

Prompto could barely even squirm. “Guh—‘Nea, I think he’s still tryin’ to kill me—”

Aranea and Iris laughed together.

Prompto twitched in Gladio’s grasp. “Seriously, help—”

The group’s moment was hardly interrupted by the sound of a car engine tearing into the yard and stopping. A few open-and-slammed doors later, they heard footsteps approach the wide open front door and witnessed a familiar pair barge their way in, the pointy-haired one in first.

“Prompto! My calls, you didn’t—”

Ignis realized that he hadn’t rushed in on a tragic scene. The air was light. The two adversaries were apparently mid-embrace. The women were happy. The pieces of something long fractured and scattered were finally falling back into place.

Noctis stepped forward. “Gladio?”

Gladio set Prompto down, letting go carefully. Prompto gasped as he got his bearings, shaking and stretching his arms. Iris walked over between them, and Gladio set a hand on her shoulder.

“Iggy. Noct. You remember, right?”

Ignis and Noctis’s eyes both widened. “Iris.”

“Your Highness…” Iris giggled and shyly turned away toward her brother’s chest.

Noctis smiled. “Yep. That’s her, all right.”

❦

Just like that, it was as if everything and nothing had changed. They all became friends, though it felt as if they had always known each other. Everyone became just a bit more understanding, and their friendship would only grow as the days went on.

When Gladio left with Iris, and Noctis took his late evening ride home in the Regalia, Ignis hung back for some much-needed time with Prompto.

Cupping Prompto’s face in his hands as they sat in their spot on the couch together, Ignis lowered his forehead to touch the other’s.

“Prompto.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Iggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	11. Eventide

Prompto would not have to endure protracted days or weeks without Ignis for much longer. Ignis planned on bringing him into the city as soon as possible. The humble vampire was, of course, invited to the royal wedding; however, its planned festivities, all of which involved vast amounts of lights, meant that Prompto may have been better off staying put for the time.

“It’s cool,” he’d said; “I’ll watch the livestream!”

For the first time, he was able to watch real events unfold and say to himself, “Those are my friends.” Their happiness was his own happiness, and he could already feel the world begin to change as a kind and just king, with his powerful and fearless queen, was ready to assume the throne.

Then, once all had settled down and the inklings of a new era began to grow, Ignis flew to him.

They lived for a while as they had longed to: taking twilight walks, waking together under the last sliver of sun; tinkering and coming up with new ideas for Prompto’s line of work; letting the rumble of each other’s voices soothe each other into slumber as cold skin met warm.

They began to plan. What types of cats wouldn’t make Ignis sneeze? How could the house be made less intimidating? Would they be able to start an evening garden?

Prompto had quite the attachment to his home as well, as much as he had wanted to go with Ignis to Insomnia. He had lived there for decades in relatively safety and solitude, bonding with floorboards and old machinery and tiny insects and wild frogs, making the most minute of memories as his eternal days of youth drew on. Thinking about it, he began to consider it rather pathetic (something he always _thought _but seldom _acknowledged_), even more now that he knew his life could evolve. However, Ignis respected this attachment. To be a homeowner was no small thing, after all. Perhaps it could become their summer home, once the threat of dark creatures was vanquished for good.

The front door and the patio were first repaired by Gladio. He did so as a personal favor (to make amends) _and_ as an excuse to get out into the woods with his sister. The old, unused rooms were cleaned up next, making room for guests and other nice things. As the home brightened in its own way, visits became more frequent, from the Amicitias as well as Aranea. Ignis said that, in time, even Noctis and Lunafreya would make their way down for a proper visit. What had always been a place of solitary comfort for Prompto soon became a real, welcoming _home_.

Every morning spent in bed with Ignis was enough in itself. Even with the memories of Ignis’s blood and body rushing inside of him, he thought that if this were all he were left to do for the rest of his afterlife, he would be perfectly content.

…

It was while Ignis was away from the city, enveloped in a world where Prompto was his only care, that the tides of fate really began to turn. Days gradually grew darker, and it wasn’t just the deep umbra of winter; the sky seemed to slowly be losing its light. Before long, a darkness not unlike that of the polar ice caps had begun to consume the land, and by the time anyone noticed, it had begun to encompass the entire world.

Amid this newfound level of darkness, His Majesty King Regis was cut down just days before he would pass on his title by agents of darkness that would have a certain prophecy forever delayed. The interruption of this ritual cast the deepest shadow across Lucis, one which grew until all life on the continent had been touched by the chill of everlasting dusk.

Slowly, deserts became as ice, and forests began to lose their richness. Daemons began spawning more frequently, even far removed from the days of hallows, and the new freedom Ignis and Prompto experienced together became short-lived.

Vampires in their covens emerged more often, spread out, expanded their territory. They would welcome this new world, observing closely as the darkness grew, some hoping that mankind would now suffer as they do, and others merely glad to experience the world as they saw fit.

Prompto could do little else but worry for his friends. Thus, Ignis finally saw fit to clue Prompto in on an aged legend which the Lucian royal family had shouldered for years and finally had been dragged out into the light.

Promtpo lay curled against Ignis’s warmth as he told this tale.

“When we were young, I witnessed Lunafreya deliver a prophecy unto Noctis: that he was to become the One True King who would unify the world by merging the light and the darkness. The legend says that when the world grows to peril and darkness takes over, the Chosen was to aid in its restoration. With great power and great sacrifice, he would drive away the daemons that plague this world forevermore.”

The vampire was wide-eyed. “Whoa. That’s some heavy stuff to be told when you’re a little kid.”

“Quite. It is an old tale whose core has remained throughout the ages. All the same, Noctis took it in stride.” Ignis’s expression grew slightly more worried. “Truthfully, however, none of us know exactly what this tale means, or in what way this _unification_ is to take place. No king before him may have even taken this prophecy seriously. I’ve seen a boldness in our King and Queen, however. They fear not this darkness. Their conviction is what keeps me going.” Ignis idly rubbed Prompto’s back, as much to soothe himself as the other.

Prompto lay there in contemplation. “So, he’ll drive away the darkness…”

“Yes. Talcott and Gladio have been researching what this could mean for vampires and the like. I think you have little to worry about; the world shall be as it always has been, in the end. The sun sets, and it also rises.”

Prompto smiled. “As long as there’s day, there’ll always be night, right? I don’t mind if our relationship stays third shift. I’ve got all the time in the world, after all.”

Ignis returned his smile. “Indeed.”

They remained in each other’s embrace, listening to the radio as the cries of daemons continued as background noise through an everlasting night.


	12. Save the Night

What had been the source of the great shadow that first took over the land of Lucis? Was a great and evil fiend lying in wait to overtake the world and usher in an era of darkness, that the creatures of the night might have their time?

Some in Liede said that a miasma had entered the aether, the lifestream of Eos, and the miasma stole light away. Others said that the Niflheim Empire’s treatment of the earth had finally caused the planet to become ill; after all, that faraway land’s experiments had already been widely known to have transformed a once-temperate region into a frozen wasteland in a mere forty years.

Yet, few knew one of the greatest secrets of Lucis, the Kingdom of Light. Its Chosen lineage, keepers of the Crystal, harbored a darkness in their bloodlines, one that certain agents of the Empire sought to free. This darkness had already passed to the young Noctis when Regis was cut down that day, but that was _all _that had to be done.

The darkness found its way out.

Noctis lay for days crushed under the weight of his own realizations and drained of the magic he once possessed. A new, dark energy burned in his heart where the power of Kings had once resided. It hurt so much that he waited days before calling on Ignis and telling him the truth.

“Death,” he told Ignis. “I wield the power of Death. And, and, I could send all those daemons out there to—I don’t even know _where _they go, but—”

Ignis placed his hands on his shoulders to calm him. “Noctis, if this is the means by which you right this world, then so be it.”

Noctis was sleepless and desperate. “But it’s futile! Daemons beget more daemons. They’ve overtaken the lands overseas—”

“The lands overseas did not have _you._”

“There is no stopping this.”

Lunafreya remained ever at his side. As an Oracle, she possessed an insight that kept her faith high. “If such is prophesied, then such is meant to be, my dear Noctis. It is a matter of finding our path.”

Noctis, of course, believed her, yet his heart still lay like lead within him.

Fearing Noctis, in his despondence, had lost all hope, Ignis made a perilous journey back to Prompto to explain the state of things—the old prophecy and the daemons—and to collect him.

They were finally moving to Lucis.

Without wasting time, Prompto was brought to visit his dear friend the King, who still appeared sick in bed.

“So… Prophecies, huh.”

Noctis’s whole attitude brightened upon seeing him. “Was the ride here okay?”

“I mean, relatively?” Prompto shrugged. “Iggy’s a pretty good driver. He managed to dodge all the Red Giants without stopping! You ever need to drive through Liede, Iggy’s your guy.”

Noctis cracked a smile. “It’s a cruel irony that it’s finally dark enough for you to be out and about, yet these dangers peril you as well.”

“Dude, don’t I know it. It was nice when it was all dusk-y and stuff.” Prompto pulled up a chair next to the bed. “This inky darkness, though… Yeah, I could live without it.”

Noctis smiled. “You know, Prompto, the first time I met you, I thought we had nothing in common, like we were total opposites, but now it feels like we’re old friends.”

Prompto sat in the chair backwards, leaning while listening. “It really doesn’t seem so odd, just talking to ya like this. Not like how I used to think.”

“‘Cause we’re not that different. After all, I…have darkness inside me, too.”

“Don’t feel bad. I think everyone does.”

“Not like this.”

Prompto noticed the depression sinking back into the king’s eyes. “Iggy filled me in on the way here. Care if I bounce some ideas off ya?”

Noctis shrugged. “Shoot. I’ll take anything at this point.”

Lunafreya and Ignis also listened intently as Prompto opened up.

“So, all vampires have a sire. ‘Cept me, of course. I guess you could call me sort of an ‘riginal’. I think technically I could make more vampires? I guess? Not that I _would_, but. The point is, there are other ‘originals’ out there, too.” Prompto illustrated using his hands, the thumb being the _original_ and the fingers being the _children_. “The continued lines of vampires depends on the originals staying alive. Without them, each link in the line just kinda withers into nothing. That’s one thing the movies get right. Some view it as a curse that was passed down. You feel pretty cursed right now, right?”

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

Prompto held up his other hand. “Well, _your _curse may also have an _original_. And to extinguish it, rather than treating the symptoms, we gotta go right to the source.”

Noctis perked up. “The source?”

“_The tombs!_”

Everyone turned toward Ignis.

“This is perfect,” he continued. “Talcott has recently begun independently documenting what little data is available about the ancient royal tombs of Lucis. What we would need, then, is the hidden location of a particular tomb…”

“The Tomb of the Mystic,” Noctis said.

“The Founder King of Lucis,” Lunafreya added.

“Wow, you guys filled that right in!” Prompto said, clapping his hands together. “Well, if my theory has any legs, the source of your curse may lie with _him._ Sucks that it kinda had to continue in your bloodline, whatever it is…”

Lunafreya closed her eyes in thought. She opened them again after a moment. “It is whispered that the Founder King performed a great sacrifice for the sake of his people. This may very well be related.”

Noctis began climbing out of bed.

“Noctis!” Ignis exclaimed.

“What?” Noctis stood. “We’ve got work to do.”

❦

Prompto learned to fight alongside Ignis and his friends for Noctis’s cause.

He had never envisioned himself fighting for the fate of the world. Yet, if he could, and had, saved Ignis from the clutches of death, surely he could play his role in the defense of the very planet. He became a member of the Kingsglaive in record time, the first ever vampire to do so, and learned to hold his own in line with those loyal to the crown. He quickly grew to realize just why Ignis had had such reverence for the Crown and those who serve it.

When finally came the time for the balance of light and darkness to be restored, their party—Noctis, Lunafreya, Ignis, Prompto, Gladiolus, as well as some additional friends: Aranea, Iris, and Cor Leonis—found themselves within the depths of the Tomb of the Mystic. The tomb’s perils paled compared to those that crawled in the land at large, for the daemons here were weak, malnourished, and unprepared for battle-hardened surface-dwellers and creatures of the night.

They found within the tomb itself something unspoken in the annals of Lucian history: two brothers beside each other, in full parity and unison. Legends spoke little of the joint rule of past kings, but here it had been laid plain to see, overgrown with blight as the scene was.

At that moment, they knew their plan would come to fruition. Every aspect of what had been known to them could be called into question, and the very fate of their world would be challenged. The darkness that had been within Noctis would be expunged from the firmament, and the land’s history of daemonic torment would be demolished.

Prompto stopped and waited, watching from the shadows. 

Before Noctis was to perform his rite—Holy, another of the powers that had awoken within him—Ignis approached Prompto off to the side.

“Prompto.”

“Don’t mind me,” the vampire said, shrinking behind one of the pillars that bordered the room. “Just wanna be off to the side in case any, say, _holy light _totally blasts out of there to do any sort of uh, purification and whatnot.”

“Prompto, you will be safe,” Ignis assured. “Noctis would not let any harm befall you.”

Prompto would not budge. “What about the sacrifice?”

“What?”

“You said the Chosen would have to make a ‘great sacrifice’. I’m not so _great,_ but I’d probably make a pretty good sacrifice, don’tcha think?”

“Prompto, that… That is not what was meant by the legend.” Ignis leaned against the other side of the pillar as Prompto remailed hidden. “The Chosen’s sacrifice is to be personal in nature. Though, we all are here to help shoulder the burden. Noctis still needs to be able to guide us when all is said and done. The world needs him. We need him.”

The blond continued to hesitate. “Are you sure? Might just be the anxiety talkin’ in the back of my head, but somethin’ just doesn’t feel right…”

“I feel the need to reiterate that you are not as the daemons out there. You are like us. You were once human.”

“But weren’t the daemons, too?” Prompto practically hid himself from Ignis, now fully in the pillar’s shadow. “Whatever corrupted them originally made ‘em that way, right? What makes _me _any different?”

“Your heart, Prompto. I’ve felt it. You, Iris, Aranea—your hearts are as real as mine.”

Prompto peeked back out at Ignis’s extended hand.

“Come,” Ignis continued. “Noctis would have you stand tall beside us.”

Prompto took his hand.

…

The Holy rite did, in fact, come at a high cost.

When the group emerged back into twilight—that which they had not seen in so long, a sign of their world renewed—Gladio had lost his arms, that he would no longer shield his king from danger in the world of light; Cor his ears, that he would never hear his King thank him for his long service and sacrifice; Luna her hands, that she would never again foretell the future as the age of prophecies came to an end; Noctis his legs, that he may never flee the seat of Lucis; Ignis his eyes, that he would never see the path of his King before them.

They all carried each other out of that tomb in pieces, as if the gods had said, “The fight is over,” taken what they required, and lifted the miasma that had haunted their star.

Ignis showed no fear in his newfound personal darkness. What mattered was that the King had lived to continue his reign in a world that would no longer suffer, and that the love he had found had remained beside him through it all.

Aranea and Iris returned to where it would be safest for them: Aranea with her coven, Iris with her family. The royals and their court returned to their city, now free from the tyranny of night.

Prompto was, all at once, glad to be alive, but wrecked by Ignis’s fate. He tried to hold it in for the others’ sake, for all the mortals had lost something precious, and they had come to rely on the little vampire for levity; but when he and Ignis finally got a moment alone, curled in each other’s arms, it finally came spilling out.

“It’s not fair.”

“It is a sacrifice I’m well willing to make for what we’ve gained. Though I will admit to missing the sight of your _darling _face.”

Ignis’s beautiful smile, beneath the unsightly scars that marred his face, brought Prompto to tears. That he could stay stalwart in the aftermath of such pain… That he still carried a good humor in his heart, in spite of it all…

This was the man he loved.

The man who took a chance on him. A man who helped save the world. A man with whom they had saved the world together.

Who knew that they would have come so far.

❦

They lived together for years in peace until Ignis began to feel his age set upon him.

Prompto hardly noticed until Ignis’s health began to fail. It was not that fate had decided to remove more of his faculties, but stairs grew ever more challenging, and joints began popping, and sleep grew longer. Medication for pain and for kidneys and for many other things began to build up. He began to lag behind the vampire when they walked places in the evening, the grip of each other’s hands keeping them from drifting apart.

In these days, Prompto held Ignis even closer. He saw the silver of Ignis’s hair begin to spread like wildfire and felt his heart grow heavy. The idea of immortality had been easier to face before he had friends or companionship. He hoped to cherish his time with Ignis without smothering him, and fortunately, the man did never make Prompto feel unwanted.

They had moved back to Prompto’s house in Liede to live life simply and quietly. A newfound peace had entered Ignis’s heart, and he would ask little more of life than to wake every morning with his darling vampire, holding him until he was as warm. Ignis felt, in all ways, content; even without his vision, he had done all he had set out to do in life in that home with Prompto, and he still adored his vampire as he had on the first day they met. Prompto had introduced yet more important ideas and ideals over the years, one of which he found himself engrossed in after a particularly hard week fighting a cold.

Prompto tended to the old man with hope in his eyes. “You’re lookin’ better today.”

“I’m feeling better, too, so that’s good to hear.” Ignis smiled as he sat himself up in his bed, accepting the tray Prompto sat over his legs. “Ah, it’s without fail: the smell of coffee always rouses me.”

“Ebony in particular,” Prompto added. “That stuff’s liable to keep you up for days. Remember when I finally got to try it? It was like someone shot me with a caffeine bullet.”

Ignis savored the warmth of the coffee cup in his hands, the smell wafting below his nose. “And I actually felt less caffeinated after you drank from me. An interesting experience, to be sure.”

“You should have put that in your memoir.”

“I didn’t want to give people any ideas.”

Prompto chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as Ignis sipped.

After a moment of quiet appreciation, Ignis said, “Prompto, I don’t believe I’ve ever asked you your age.”

“I don’t think I remember at this point.” Prompto grinned weakly. “I had to have been around forty-three when we met. Maybe? According to what I remember and the history books, anyway. And you were just twenty-five… I’m a regular cradle-robber!”

“You devil, you.”

“And you’re gonna be eighty soon, which means I’m probably ninety-eight, then. Got some big milestones coming up, Igs.” He patted Ignis’s leg over the comforter.

Ignis nodded. “And I already know what I want for my birthday.”

“I told ya, that vibrator’s too powerful for you now, babe. We gotta dial it back some.”

“It’s not _material_.”

“That’s good, ‘cause it’s also sold out.”

Ignis snickered a bit before going into a slightly-too-solemn quietness. “Prompto, I…” He laughed again, the glint of a tear coming to his open eye.

“Iggy…” Prompto moved the tray to the side carefully, placing himself nearer to Ignis with full attention.

“We _have _been together for so long, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. Best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Prompto placed a hand on Ignis’s cheek, which the man leaned into softly.

“Me as well. I don’t want it to end.”

“Ignis…”

“I want to walk by your side evermore. I…would join you in twilight. Turn me.”

Prompto had a certain amount of surprise, yet his heart-of-hearts had been selfishly wanting this, only for Ignis to stay with him. “You’d give up the light you fought for?”

“I’ve lived _with _darkness longer than without; I have little to miss and everything to gain. And besides that, all this time…” Ignis found Prompto’s hands, taking them into his own, squeezing them. “_You_ have been my light, Prompto.”

Prompto tucked his face into the neck of his human, the love of his life. Ignis’s warmth welcomed him, as it had so many times before.

…

When Ignis’s birthday came around, his friends didn’t quite honor his plea to keep it “a small affair”.

Once the gathering was over, the tales told, the grand and great-grandchildren were met, the food feasted, Ignis and Prompto were finally left to their own devices.

“You don’t know how hard it was, avoiding all that good food,” Ignis confided that night with a wry grin.

“Well, we’ve still got the leftovers if ya really wanna make it your last meal,” Prompto said, his smile slight. “It’ll be a lot more messy later, sure, but it’d be worth it, if that’s what you want.”

“No,” said Ignis, “I’m committing to this. As much as I hate to waste the food they went through the effort to preserve for me—”

“You were a really good actor, by the way.”

“It wasn’t much of a stretch.” Ignis’s stomach made a strange noise as he placed a hand on it. “I think the soup you made me yesterday was a fine last meal. I need nothing more.”

Prompto’s smile grew in response.

Their little couch had seen a lot of wear over the years, easily the oldest thing inside that old home at that point, yet it still held up. Fortified with plush blankets, of the normal and heated variety, as well as pillows, Prompto had intended to make this as comfortable a process for Ignis as possible. It would not be as Prompto’s turning, cold and steel and lonely. Ignis would be reborn in the loving arms of his eternal partner, cushioned and comfortable.

“To be honest, however,” Ignis continued, “I am getting a bit of cold feet, as it were.”

“The prospect is nerve-wracking,” Prompto said. “I mean, everything will change. It’s hard to fathom, as a mortal.” He leaned his head against Ignis’s. “I want you to know, it’s your decision, ultimately. As much as I’d hate to lose you, I know some people find peace in mortality, too… I support you, whatever you do.”

“I know, and I love you for it.” Ignis gave Prompto’s lips a light peck. Drawing back, he breathed lightly. “I only fear losing the sort of _spark_ our relationship started with. The greatest thing I’ve had to offer you.”

“What, your generosity? Your attitude? Your smile?”

Ignis snickered. “Prompto…”

“Seriously, man, it’s like you said: you’ve got nothin’ to lose and everything to gain. If you’re so worried, let’s just drink from Gladio from now on. Dude’s still got enough spicy blood to sustain a whole fleet of vampires, and he’ll probably live to a hundred at this rate, I’m pretty sure.”

At that, Ignis laughed. “I’m sure he’d be absolutely _thrilled_ with this idea.”

“Ignis, every day I think about how far out of your way you went to make sure I was well when we barely knew each other. _That’s _what I love most about you.”

Ignis curled more deeply into Prompto’s arms. Prompto listened to the blood rushing rhythmically in his veins, almost matching the soft music that played in the background of their living room. Ignis could already smell the blood Prompto had prepared for him; a warm cup of it sat upon a cup warmer on the coffee table.

“We don’t have to rush,” Prompto said. “Stay with me like this for as long as you want.”

Ignis grinned into Prompto’s arm. “If I stay much longer, I’ll begin thinking about that food again.” 

Prompto offered a fanged smile. “Well, then, may I?”

Ignis sat up, looking worried. “How much did you say it would hurt again?”

Prompto pondered for a moment on his wording, finger to his lip. “Well, it’s really gonna feel like you’re _dying_, essentially, but you’re still pretty in-shape, so you’ll probably take it well.”

Ignis nodded, then sank back into Prompto’s arms. Prompto cradled him there for moments more, enjoying his warm lover’s comfort.

Then he rose again. “And how long will the pain last?”

“That, I can’t say. I think it’s different for everyone. Not to say it could take days or nothin’. Maybe an hour at most? But, remember, that’s the most pain you’ll feel for the rest of your life!”

Ignis nodded again. “Indeed.” He placed himself back in Prompto’s arms.

Smiling, Prompto placed his chin atop the man’s head. “For all the things that have been tough about being a vamp, I can say for sure that it was worth it to get to spend time with people like you, and to experience life with you, without all the cares of mortals.”

“You do fret for me, as I had for you. You took great caution not to bring anybody harm as well. You can’t say you had no mortal cares.”

“S’pose that’s true, if you put it that way…” Prompto chuckled. “See! You’re so smart, Iggy.”

Ignis kept listening to the rumbling of Prompto’s chest as he spoke, the air traveling through his lungs, the inner workings of a vampire. And he responded, face still buried there against him. “There is a certain peace that comes with death for mortals. Knowing that anything they endure must one day, without fail, come to an end. I can say for certain that it does not feel like my time is up. I could go a few centuries without feeling my time is up, I think.”

“That’s the kinda person you are, Igs.”

“Yeah?” Ignis sat up again. “Noctis would say so as well.” Smiling, he pressed his lips into Prompto’s for a long, soft kiss.

Prompto drew away with that same smile. “Ready?”

“Honestly, I’m frightened. I’ve known many pains in my life, but there are still some left to discover.”

Prompto kissed him this time, sweet and sanguine as when they had first met. Well-fed, he still looked, as always, like his face owned the universe of red-hot stars; to share that universe with Ignis, to do it continually, kept him moving forward, even in these days where all he could do was picture them. The image remained just behind his eyelids. Always.

Truly, who needed the sun. Not him.

Withdrawing slowly, feeling the fresh warmth of Prompto’s lips draw shortly away, Ignis nodded. “Let’s do it.”

First, Prompto seized Ignis’s lips with his own once again, almost as if preparing them for what was to come. His next kiss was fanged, and he drew blood from Ignis’s lower lip, if only a little bit. If their research had been accurate, then only a small amount of blood would be necessary for the vampirism exchange; Prompto had little desire to drain his love to within an inch of his life just to do this, and he wanted Ignis to experience as little pain as possible. He drank just enough from Ignis’s lip and licked the wounds clean.

Ignis’s voice wavered a bit as Prompto withdrew. “How many times have we done this? And now, for a much different reason.”

“Yeah,” said Prompto, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Here comes the yucky part.” He bit into his own wrist, the fresh blood budding from the perfect circles as he held the underside of his wrist upward. “‘Kay, Iggy, when you’re ready. Just think back to, like, your first nosebleed or somethin’.”

Ignis regarded Prompto’s wrist cautiously as he held it up to his mouth. He did not hesitate long before taking it into his mouth, sucking as much blood as he could for a few seconds before Prompto drew away again.

The old vampire chuckled as Ignis coughed. “C’mon, now, you don’t wanna be the one draining _me_.”

As Prompto licked his wound to close it, Ignis continued coughing, bracing himself against the vampire.

Prompto held him in place, hands firmly on his shoulders. “Igs, listen—listen, you’re doin’ good. It’s gonna be okay. Let it flow through you. It won’t take long; you’ll see.”

The man convulsed in Prompto’s arms, clutching his stomach and robes, groaning as he pressed himself more into his lover. Gasping for air, he tried not to bite his own tongue as the pain spread through his abdomen.

He was dying. He was dying in the worst way; it felt like poisoning.

“Prompto,” he breathed. “Prompto, you’re still there, right?”

“I’m here, Iggy, I’m here.” Prompto caressed Ignis’s hair, running soothing, cool fingers through his silvery locks as the man began clutching at Prompto’s clothing for any sort of purchase. He felt his stomach sink as Ignis sobbed for air.

“I—can’t breath—Pro—”

“It’ll be over soon, I promise,” Prompto said, eyes stinging from a lack of tears, holding Ignis as tightly as he could. He knew it would be hard, yet, still, _seeing _and _feeling _his old, gentle human in such pain was almost too much.

It was only agonizing moments more before Ignis went limp in Prompto’s arms.

And Prompto waited.

It was the part he had feared most. Feared if something went wrong. Feared if Ignis never woke again, and they had made a terrible mistake.

Prompto pulled Ignis more upwards in his embrace, burying his face against his hair. “Iggy,” he spoke softly. “Iggy, you can do it. Come back to me.”

He waited.

The silence was too much.

“Iggy, Iggy, please…”

Just before he could no longer bear it, he felt Ignis shift. Setting him upright to behold his face, Ignis looked twenty years younger—forty—fifty—his silver hair returning to the luscious ash-blond of his youth, the scars maring his eyes and face melting into nothing, the wrinkles smoothing out into the chiseled visage Prompto had, by some fate and miracle, come face-to-face with so many years before. He felt Ignis’s musculature fill out again, feeling a strength that could be even beyond what Ignis had possessed coming into his form.

Then he saw Ignis open his eyes for the first time in decades.

Ignis’s eyes opened, and he saw the whole world before him, at the center of his new life.

Prompto’s sob was joyous. This was the Ignis he had met, now with extra _flavor_. It was _his Ignis._ “It worked…”

Ignis grinned, the ruddiness of Prompto’s recycled blood still in his cheeks. “It worked.”

…

Lying in bed with Prompto beneath their heated blanket, the smaller vampire’s arm draped across him, Ignis idly thought to check himself in a mirror, then laughed lightly. _Such irony._

The last time he had seen himself, he had been a man of restraint and regret.

No more regrets.

He would always see himself reflected in Prompto’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, special thanks to Callie and Hap Sky (my editors), Nagifry (the artist), and the rest of the Promnis fam that directly helped instigate and contribute to this whole idea: Marley, Bre, Su, Musey, Gizz, Ace, and Rose! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️


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